As Long as We're Together: The Price of Freedom
by TheWritingManiac
Summary: In March of 1774, Perseus Jackson, an officer in the British army, bumps into Annabeth Chase, a young Loyalist girl in Boston. But when Percy begins helping Annabeth secretly gather information for the Patriots, can she help win freedom for the colonies, even at the cost of her own life? Can the two of them work together to save the Revolution? Percabeth Revolutionary War AU.
1. Prologue

It wasn't death she was afraid of.

It was the people she would leave behind.

And more than the people – the country, the struggling citizens, fighting against all odds. The work she had been doing for who-knows-how long, risking her life daily, all for the colonies.

All for freedom.

Well, the risking-her-life part had caught up with her, Annabeth thought drily. She could feel her hands, tied behind to a tall pole used only for this purpose. She had walked through the town square so many times before, shuddering at the thought of people dying at the mercy of the firing squad, tied to that pole.

And now she was the one about to be executed.

 _You knew the risks,_ she told herself. _You knew, if you got caught, this would be your punishment._ It was almost funny, really. Now that she was the one facing those muskets, it didn't seem so bad. It would all be over in a few minutes, anyway, and then she would be gone.

 _This will be my freedom._

The officer, sitting on his sleek brown mare, sounded bored as he listed the charges. "Annabeth Chase has been accused of spying, an act of treason against her country. She has been sentenced to death on the day of February 8th, 1776, as punishment for her crimes."

The crowd around the square grew larger. Men, women, even children watched in silence as the execution continued. Some – Patriots, Annabeth guessed – looked outraged. A few women were even crying – although that might have been from seeing a woman being shot. Others, Loyalists, looked cold and indifferent, but even they seemed to be uneasy with the execution of a female. Annabeth guessed that to the men of either side, women were incapable of being smart enough to commit treason against the crown. Probably they thought she had been simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The thought made Annabeth's blood boil. She had _not_ simply been an innocent bystander. No, if she was going to die, it would be for her true country. The colonies. The uncountable days and months she had been part of this rebellion would _mean_ something when she died. She had been caught spying to save her country, and _that_ was what she was dying for.

The drums began to sound, their rumble counting down the seconds until her life would end. Annabeth looked defiantly into the eyes of the red-coated soldiers, their muskets at attention. As one unit they lowered the guns to their shoulders, and Annabeth found herself staring down six endless black holes. She wished, for a moment, that they had blindfolded her like so many other prisoners, but then she brushed the thought off. She wasn't going to die like a coward. She would look into their eyes until the moment the bullets hit her.

The drums grew louder. She wanted to shut her eyes desperately, but she kept them open. Soon it would be over. Soon she would be free.

Ten seconds until she would die. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven.

Six fingers moved to the triggers.

Annabeth finally closed her eyes.

The drums stopped.

•

 _Two years earlier_

 _\- March 14_ _th_ _, 1774 -_

Annabeth pushed a blond curl into her mob cap exasperatedly as she skipped down the busy market street. March had come, and with it a lot of rain. She shielded her eyes from the cold drizzle, her red wool cloak falling down her arm. She dodged the rich elderly men and the poor venders honking their wares, the red-coated British soldiers, the busy women doing their daily shopping and the little children squealing in the rain as their mothers tried in vain to keep them dry. Pulling the edge of her cloak over the wicker basket she carried, she did her best to keep the food inside dry.

Within minutes she had gotten to the door of a little shop. Stepping inside, she breathed deeply of the millions of scents assaulting her nose. The spices and clean cloth and tea and new wood and a hundred other things blended together to create the unique smell of her father's shop. The bustle of people crowded inside, doing their shopping and catching up with the town gossip at the same time, was warm and familiar. This was where she felt like she was at home.

Annabeth quickly pushed through people standing in line to the front counter, then stepped behind it. "Hello, Luke," she greeted the young man working at the front counter.

"Hello, Annabeth," Luke replied, flashing a grin. "What brings you to the shop today?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Father forgot his dinner. Again."

Luke laughed, wrapping a length of cloth in brown paper and handing it to the woman at the front of the line. "Of course he did. You know, I believe he just likes having you come to the shop."

Annabeth grinned, sneaking a stick of molasses candy from a large jar. "I think so too. Not that I mind getting away from Matthew and Robert once in a while. They seem to grow louder by the day!"

"Not that this rain helps," Luke agreed, glancing to the window. The dismal grey sky seemed to pour out water, as though weeping.

Annabeth nodded. "Yes, they have been asking all day to go outside, but Mother won't let them because she's afraid they'll catch cold."

He laughed. "I doubt that you'll enjoy them more if they were sick, though, so perhaps it is a good thing."

"Annabeth!" interrupted her father, coming into the front room. "Now, I wonder why you're here?"

Annabeth giggled. "Father, you forgot your dinner again. Here," she said, handing him the slightly damp basket. "And Mother says she's making roast lamb for supper tonight, so you should come home. And Thalia will be there…" she hinted loudly, glancing over at Luke.

His cheeks slightly flushed as he quickly wrapped up another package for a customer. "Since I currently reside with your family, I will be there for supper, Annabeth."

Annabeth grinned at her father, who grinned back. They both knew that Luke and Thalia fancied each other, and she and her father both tried to get them together as much as possible. At twenty-one, Luke was a handsome young man, and many girls fancied him, but he only had eyes for Thalia.

"Well, I probably should be getting back," Annabeth said abruptly. "It looks as though the rain is slowing down some."

"Good-bye, sweetheart," her father said with a smile. "And thank you for bringing my dinner!"

"You're welcome, Father," she answered, grinning. "Bye Luke!"

"Farewell, Annabeth," he answered, waving as she headed out the door.

She pulled her hood over her head as she went back outside. The rain had, indeed, slowed, but only slightly. It was hard to see through the mist and drizzle, but Annabeth finally had gotten past the still-busy market and onto a quiet street that led to her home. Her eyes shielded from the rain and trained on the soggy cobblestones, she didn't notice someone coming from the opposite direction until it was too late.

"Oomph," Annabeth gasped as she stumble backward. She struggled to her feet, ignoring her soaked cloak and muddy dress, and ran to the figure sprawled on the cobblestones. "Excuse me, sir, are you all right?"

The man got to his feet rather stiffly. Annabeth notice how the brim of his hat was pulled over his eyes, shielding his face, and his voice seemed to be muffled.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss. Wasn't watching were I was going because of this blasted rain," he said, pulling his cloak tighter. His voice sounded young, though muted. Annabeth wondered why the collar was pulled over his mouth and nose, as though he was hiding his face. She brushed off the thought; this was Boston, after all. Although the British soldiers patrolling the streets and standing at every corner were annoying, Annabeth was sure nothing got past them. If this young man was dangerous, he wouldn't be here.

"It's perfectly all right," she answered, curtsying politely. "I must be going home now. Again, I apologize."

"Fine, fine," he muttered, and continued down the street. Annabeth shook her head. Strange.

She was about to move on her way when she saw something glint on the ground. She picked it up curiously. It was a strange thing, almost like a tiny pair of Dr. Franklin's new bifocals. She shook her head, but knew it was the strange young man's.

"Sir! Sir, you dropped something," she called, beginning to run down the street but stopping when she remembered how it wasn't ladylike. Now that she was sixteen, her mother had enrolled her in lessons for how to be a proper young lady, and running certainly wasn't appropriate.

He turned around. "I'm sorry?"

"You dropped this," she said, showing him the tiny pair of bifocals.

The young man's face paled, and he reached for the small silver piece. For just a moment, Annabeth could see his eyes, bright and sea-green colored. Then the moment passed, as he quickly snatched the charm and stuffed it into his pocket, the hat falling down over his eyes again.

"Thank you, miss," he said hurriedly. "Now I really must be going."

And with that, he turned the corner and was gone, leaving Annabeth to wonder what in the world had just happened.

 **A/N Hi guys! So I've had this idea in my head for a long time and am finally turning it into a story. So now I have to decide whether to switch POVs between Percy and Annabeth every other chapter or not. (I'm horrible at deciding. :D) So you guys decide for me! Please tell me if you want it to switch back and forth or just stay in Annabeth's POV for the whole story.**

 **Anyway, please review, tell me what you think, and decide what POV you want this in! Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. Thanks so much!**

 **WM**


	2. The Silver Whistles

**Hey guys! New chapter. I probably won't be updating this quickly normally, but I just wanted to get the story moving. This chapter is not my favorite, but it had a lot of information that needed to be said for the rest of the story to be understood later. Just so everyone is clear, when the dots/linebreaks are there, it usually means switching POVs, and the entire story will ONLY be Annabeth's and Percy's POV. I understand that Percy is a little OOC right now but when we get to know him better later you'll understand. :)**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed! You guys are the best. Feedback is always awesomesauce. :P**

 **Onto the story! Read, review and enjoy! :)**

 _\- March 14_ _th_ _, 1774 –_

Percy breathed a sigh a relief as he entered the tavern, filled to the brim with shouting, drunken men. The stench of unwashed bodies and cheap whiskey was so strong his eyes watered. Shaking his head, he made his way to the stairs and spoke the owner in low tones.

"Just got back. No word yet from Carleton – Gage told me everything he's heard so far."

The innkeeper nodded grimly and went to the back to fetch more ale. Percy kneaded his forehead with his free hand and began up the creaky stairs leading to his room. The people of Boston were being forced into housing the soldiers recently shipped from England, but the innkeeper, a unwavering Loyalist himself, was more than willing to host a senior officer, even one so young as Percy. He had been one of the most promising soldiers back in London, and General Howe had taken a personal interest in him from the start.

So as a reward here he was in this God-forsaken land, these colonies. The kindling of rebellion had first been lit during the Boston Massacre in 1770, only four years ago, had been fed with the Boston Tea Party last year. After that King George had sent in ships of soldiers to Boston, to "keep an eye on things," as Howe had put it.

Percy pulled off his plain brown cloak, noticing the mud spattered on it from that chance encounter with the girl. He shook his head. Leave it to him to be so careless on his way back from Governor Gage's mansion. When he took off his officer's bright red coat and dressed as one of the townspeople as incognito, he had to be more careful.

And letting the tiny bifocals show, letting the charm fall out of his pocket… he shuddered. If someone were to find _that_ out, it would be death for him. It had been good that he had given them to that silversmith the doctor had told him about on the way home.

He wearily pulled his boots off and lay down on his bed, the uncomfortable straw mattress poking him in all the wrong places. He shifted, trying to find a position more comfortable, but his exhausted body and mind soon gave up and fell asleep.

•

Annabeth laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. She loved when Thalia visited – not only because Luke forgot about being the handsome, intelligent young man he normally was and instead stuttered and blushed like a five-year-old, but also the matters of the growing tension in the colonies was abandoned. Since Thalia and her brother, Jason, were patriots, Frederick's opinions of the "hot-headed rebels," as he called them, were received rather frostily, and their beliefs in turn.

But Annabeth was glad to leave the realm of politics, at least for a while. She didn't want to think of the soldiers or the rebels or anything about the growing unrest. She just wanted the happy days before the Boston Tea Party. The way things had been.

She listened quietly as Luke and her father discussed the store, as Thalia teased her younger brothers, as her stepmother, smiling, brought out a pudding for dessert. She felt contented, happy.

Just then, the two soldiers the Chases were hosting burst in the front door, laughing drunkenly. Annabeth saw Thalia stiffen, saw Luke almost involuntary stand up protectively.

"Gentlemen, your rooms are this way," Luke said firmly, gesturing down the hall.

The soldiers giggled like little boys and one imitated his voice mockingly. "Gentlemen, your rooms… are this way…" one said and burst out laughing. Annabeth saw Luke's jaw clench.

"Lieutenant Nakamura, I will escort you," Annabeth's father said, taking the drunk officers gently by the arms and guiding them down the hall and depositing them in their rooms. He returned to his seat a moment later.

Annabeth felt her heart sink. The formerly warm room seemed to have chilled a dozen degrees and Thalia's face had crumpled. Annabeth knew Thalia would never stoop to crying, unlike many women; that just wasn't something she ever did. But right now she seemed very close.

"I hate it," Thalia's whisper broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Dr. Chase. But… they not only have the invaded our country, they have also occupied our homes, our families. This is our private life, and they have felt the need to intrude."

Dr. Chase looked grim. "'Tis not our place to question the Crown, Thalia, even if you believe their actions are unprecedented."

Thalia's cheeks flushed. Annabeth winced, knowing what was coming. "So we can simply live here and let the Parliament decide what is best for us, without a say in the matter? What if they do something radical? Would you let them draft young Matthew or Robert into the Navy and simply let them go to their almost certain deaths, because it isn't your place to question it?"

Dr. Chase looked startled. "Thalia, England is our mother country. Would you defy your own mother simply because you want your family to be safe…" he trailed off, realizing the irony of the statement a second too late.

Thalia's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "I _did_ defy my own mother when she abandoned Jason, and it _was_ to keep my family safe. I will not sacrifice someone or something I love simply because of other people's foolish morals. If something is wrong, 'tis _wrong_ , no matter who is forcing it upon us!" She stood up, glaring. "Thank you for the wonderful supper, Mrs. Chase, but I think it is time I make my departure." With that, she grabbed her cloak and left, slamming he big front door as she did.

Luke stood up and started to go after her, but Annabeth held him back. "Don't," she said softly. "I will." Luke nodded, his jaw clenched as he stare out the window at Thalia's retreating figure.

Annabeth glanced at her mother for permission, and was granted a small nod. She hugged her stepmother, whispered "I might end up spending the night," and received another nod. She quickly flung on her cloak as well and hurried out the door to go talk to Thalia.

The moment she stepped out the door she could feel the cold. The rain had turned to sleet, and every step she took she had to battle the wind. Within moments, however, she caught up with Thalia.

"Do not talk to me," Thalia growled, then glanced over. Her face softened when she saw it was Annabeth. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Luke."

Annabeth tried to shield her eyes from the stinging sleet. "Why don't you want to talk to Luke?" she asked, raising her voice slightly over the wind.

Thalia sighed. "He's… he's just so indecisive. He isn't a Patriot or a Loyalist, and cannot seem to come to terms with either of them. 'Tis almost as though… as though he's just trying to decide who the winning side is, instead of the beliefs and values that come with both."

Annabeth was quiet. She and Thalia had known Luke since they were all children, and she could feel herself understanding what Thalia meant. Luke was only an apprentice at her father's store because his own father was in jail for stealing, and his mother had died years ago.

"Annabeth, do you even know what you are? Do you have a perspective for the colonies?" Thalia asked her.

"I… I don't really know," Annabeth admitted. "Sometimes, I'm with my family, and everything seems to make perfect sense from the Loyalist point of view. But other times, I'm with you, or Jason, or even just overhear a conversation in the street, and I realize… I'm not like my family. I don't think the colonies should be ruled by a king across the ocean, a king who knows nothing of our lives and our affairs. I'm just so… so _confused_ , Thalia."

Her friend nodded in understanding. "If you had to make a choice, though – ignore the consequences, and just think of what you feel is right. What would you choose.

"I would be a patriot," Annabeth said without hesitation.

Thalia raised her eyebrows. "That was easy."

Annabeth groaned. "It's just… Thalia, my family is _everything_ to me. If I lose them because of the way I see things, what else do I have to live for?"

"So really, it's not the belief you're struggling with. It's the consequences," Thalia summed up.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Annabeth answered with a sigh. She pulled her cloak closer around her shivering form. The wind had died down a bit, but the icy slush raining down had not stopped, and the cloak did little to keep the drizzle out.

Thalia glanced at Annabeth. "Follow me. I want – I _need_ – to show you something. For you to meet someone."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, but followed her friend. She trusted Thalia. Although the other girl was four years older than she was, they had always been best friends.

After winding through the dark, abandoned streets for what seemed like hours, Annabeth's fingers were so cold she couldn't even feel them. "We're almost there," Thalia promised.

After looking warily from side to side, as though making sure no one was following them, Thalia entered a silversmith's shop. Annabeth's brow furrowed as she followed her friend. Why was she leading her here?

A low murmur of voices greeted them, flickering candlelight piercing the darkness. Thalia confidently led Annabeth to the back of the shop, where two men were hunched over a table, talking. One, with grey hair, bifocals and a large middle, stood up as he noticed the newcomers.

"Thalia," he said in greeting. "Who is this?" His voice held a tinge of caution.

"Dr. Franklin. This is my friend, Annabeth," Thalia answered, a hint of answering defiance in her words.

Annabeth tried not to stare. _The_ Dr. Franklin? The inventor? How did Thalia know this man?

Dr. Franklin nodded. "Sorry to be suspicious, miss, but it's hard to trust anyone these days." He sighed heavily and pulled out a few chairs. "Please, sit."

At Thalia's example, Annabeth sat warily. The other man at the table, who had not said a thing, leaned forward, casting his shadowed face into the candlelight. His large square jaw and deep-set blue eyes were foreboding. "And what brings you here tonight, Thalia? Do you have any news?"

Thalia shook her head. "None since the bit I told you last week," she answered. "However, Annabeth here has a few questions."

Annabeth felt a twinge of panic. "Um, I do?" she said uncertainly.

"Yes, you do," Thalia said impatiently. "Dr. Franklin, Revere – Annabeth comes from a Loyalist family. However, she feels more sympathetic towards our side. The problem is, she knows very little, and I thought you would be able to answer her questions better than I would."

"Thalia, you have proved valuable to our cause, and I trust your judgement in bringing this girl to us tonight. However, at the moment we have some more important things to worry about," the man Thalia had called Revere said.

Thalia's eyes flashed. "Do I need to repeat myself? Annabeth comes from a Loyalist family. She has a senior officer staying in her house, and their family's store is frequented by many prominent Loyalists in Boston. Not only that, but her father is a doctor, and Annabeth is often his assistant on calls. _House_ calls, I might add, to some of the most well-known, wealthy Loyalists in the state. She will prove much, _much_ more valuable than I ever have been."

The men, grown and independent as they were, seemed almost intimidated by Thalia's words and inflection. Although she didn't understand what Thalia was talking about, Annabeth didn't blame them. Thalia's midnight-black hair and striking blue eyes made a combination only more intimating when she was angry about something, and her nerve to speak to the men like that, even though women usually didn't address men in the first place, was outstanding. Frankly, if Annabeth had been the one on the other end of that glare, she would do more than just look rather taken aback.

The two men seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes, then Dr. Franklin turned to Annabeth. "What do you want to know?"

•

Percy groggily rose. He had only had a few hours of sleep since he fell asleep at sundown. Pulling on his muddy cloak, he slipped on the pair of ratty boots he had worn earlier, on his mission to the Governor's mansion. Now, he would be going to a much different location.

He listened cautiously at the door. It seemed all the soldiers had gone to their respective homes in various places in the city. The innkeeper usually locked the doors at midnight and went to bed at 1, and after glancing at his pocket watch, Percy nodded with satisfaction. It was safe for him to leave now.

He stole from his room, down the stairs, and out the door. He braced himself for the cold, and the sleet hit him full on. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his cloak closer and turned down an obscure street, making a roundabout way to his destination.

It was only a few minutes until he had reached his journey's end, but it seemed like much longer with being paranoid about being followed. If he was found out by one of the soldiers, or worse, a fellow officer…

He opened the door to the small shop and closed it behind, shaking the sleet off his cloak. He heard low voices and flickering candlelight from the back, so he silently made his way there.

When he reached the doorway, he froze. There was Dr. Franklin and Paul Revere, and a young woman he had seen around the various meetings before.

But there was someone else, too.

The same girl he had run into that afternoon.

•

Annabeth felt overwhelmed, but at the same time, so _content._ She finally had information about the opposing side, the one she had secretly yearned to know more about since she was twelve years old and heard the word "Patriots" after the infamous Boston Massacre. She knew, without a doubt, what side she had ultimately chosen.

It was a large – no, more than large, _huge_ – decision to make in one night, but really she had just been waiting for the opportunity since she had met Thalia and heard a bit more tantalizing facts about the rebels.

Then they all heard the front door open, and someone entered the shop.

"Jackson," greeted Revere, standing up to shake the other man's hand.

But the young man, Jackson, was frozen, staring at Annabeth. She wondered why, then saw his strangely bright green eyes and knew. _This is the man I bumped into earlier!_ She realized.

Jackson shook himself and suddenly seemed to notice Revere's outstretched hand. "Sir," he greeted him in a low voice. Now Annabeth was positive, after hearing his voice again.

He nodded to the rest of them before pulling up a chair.

"Annabeth, Thalia, this is Neptune," Revere said. "It's a code name, since he is one of our top spies and if he were found out…" Revere left it hanging, but they all knew: anyone caught as a spy was either hanged or faced the firing squad.

"Dr. Franklin, I have some news."

The inventor nodded. "Come with me." He and Neptune exited the room.

"Annabeth, Thalia, let me show you my newest project, given to me only this afternoon by Neptune," Paul Revere said. He pulled two small silver pieces out of his pocket. Annabeth realized that one of them was the tiny pair of bifocals she had picked up from the street after Neptune had dropped it. "See, here is the model. Then, see this one." He showed the girls a small, silver whistle, with the tiny spectacles on the top. "We will be giving these to all our spies."

"They are, indeed, interesting, but what is the point?" asked Annabeth.

Paul Revere nodded, looking pleased. "Good job, Annabeth. You are beginning to question things. That will come in handy later." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Have you ever heard of the early Christians in Rome, about 60 AD?"

Annabeth and Thalia shook their heads.

"Well, they had a sign – a crude fish, easily drawn, easily hidden. Because Christianity was illegal, they had to be careful when talking to strangers. To see if they were also Christians or not, they would often use their feet to draw one line, one half, of the fish in the dirt. If the stranger was a Christian, he or she would complete the other half, and then they both knew it was safe to divulge information."

The girls nodded. Annabeth began to understand where he was going.

"Well, these whistles are our fish," he said, smiling. "When we are talking to someone, we will take out one of the whistles, maybe play with it, turning it casually in our fingers. If the other person is also one of our spies, they too will take out their whistles and just keep it in their hands, for the other to plainly see. Then both will know it is safe to speak plainly."

"But will all spies receive one, or just the ones with the most dangerous information?" Annabeth asked.

"Mostly our top spies. If you choose to be one of us, Annabeth, you will start with small tasks, trying to find out small bits of information. When you are ready or have already found out information that is extremely useful to our cause, and you are not afraid to risk your life for it, then you also will receive a whistle."

Annabeth nodded, trying to push down the feeling of overwhelming nervousness. "But – what information do you even need?"

Revere looked grim. "Anything and everything even hinting at where British troops are or will be, what Governor Gage is up to, and even information about weapons and gunpowder. Anything you think could be beneficial to the Patriots."

Annabeth felt panic. "But how will I know?"

Revere nodded towards Thalia, who had been sitting quietly and listening the whole time. "Your friend will help you. Go to her first if you hear something. And Annabeth – be cautious. Although I fear this unrest will only end in war, I do not wish for countless lives to be spent any sooner than you do. Make sure you are not caught."

Annabeth nodded firmly. "I will be careful."

To herself, she added, _I will never get caught._

 **And that's all for today! Reviews are PSLs. :P**

 **Love ya'll!**

 **WM**


	3. Accident on the Neck

**Hey guys! New part of the story, right here. Sorry it might be a little choppy. I haven't had a lit of time to write and even less to edit, but I promise the next ones will be better!**

 **Hope you guys enjoy! Read and review!**

Annabeth clenched her fingers together so hard they hurt. The bumpy road rocked the carriage from side to side, the wind ruffling her curls under her mob cap. Her father, sitting next to her, made small talk about the patient they would be visiting, but Annabeth was too nervous to be listening.

This was her first real assignment from Benjamin Franklin and the rest of the Patriots – the group, she had learned, was called the Observers, and they met in shops around the city under the cover of darkness.

Her foot touched the floor of the carriage, and she cringed, knowing there were illegal newspapers underneath printed by ardent Whigs around the city, to distribute beyond the Neck.

They were on the Neck, now – it was the only way out of Boston besides a ship, and ever since the Boston Tea Party the harbor had been closed by the British Navy. Annabeth laughed bitterly. All the Tories were saying the King was just, and yet here he was punishing an entire city for the crimes of a few hundred. It was completely unfair.

Although Annabeth hadn't agreed with the Boston Tea Party when it happened – basically a couple hundred men and boys stealing and damaging the property of the East India Company – she, along with many others, had been indignant when the King closed the harbor down. Hundreds of men, Luke included, who had worked along the wharf were immediately out of a job, and more work losses followed – tailors and dressmakers were out, since no one had the money to buy their services anymore, and shops also began to close since they no longer had the wares to sell.

Thankfully, her father had been able to keep his little mercantile going because of his work at an apothecary down the street. Between the two jobs, the Chase family had been well-provided for. Because they were one of the only shops left, the extra business continued, and her father had taken on Luke as an apprentice to help.

Her thoughts jerked back to the present as the carriage passed the Neck and into the open air outside of Boston. Annabeth breathed in deeply, wondering if there was anything as beautiful as fresh air. This was her first time out of Boston in a long time, and she relished every second of it – at least, until her foot bounced on the floor again and she remembered, her heart sinking, her task.

They pulled up to a large farmhouse, her father grabbing his bag. "Would you like to come in with me, sweetheart?" he asked.

Annabeth shook her head, giving her father a convincing smile. "I'm going to go down the road a bit, to that tavern down there. I need some water."

Her father smiled back. "All right. Be back within the hour."

"I will," Annabeth answered, fastening her light cloak around her shoulders. Although the rain had finally stopped and the sun had come out to shine upon the new, tiny green leaves dotting the trees, it was still rather chilly.

She waited until her father had gone inside the large house before slipping the bundle of newspapers under the cloak, her hands shaking. According to Revere, besides being banned for the rebel content, there was a hidden message inside that only a handful of Patriots outside the city would understand. If she were caught, even with such a small offense, she could be jailed.

When she reached the tavern, she pushed open the heavy oak door and walked boldly to the front, when the innkeeper was filling a few glasses. The couple of men inside looked at her curiously, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. Brushing her scattered thoughts away, she pulled out the heavy stack of newspapers and set them on the counter.

The innkeeper, a Whig himself, understood immediately. He grabbed the stack and set them on the edge of the counter, announcing, "Men, news from Boston!"

The five men inside the mostly empty tavern got up, and one by one, grabbed a paper. Annabeth wondered – what if the people Revere was hoping to get the message wasn't here?

As if reading her thoughts, the innkeeper winked. "This place will be jam-packed later tonight."

Annabeth nodded, giving him a small smile. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded, and Annabeth quickly exited, breathing a sigh of relief. _That was easier than I expected._ The problem would be when her father didn't have a house call outside the city – the only reason the carriage wasn't searched was because Dr. Chase was a well-known Loyalist.

 _I'll think of something,_ Annabeth promised to herself as she began to walk down the dirt road again. The few people walking along as well greeted her politely. She smiled, closing her eyes and letting the rays of sunlight pierce through the cold wind, feeling the warmth soak into her.

"Are you all right, miss?"

Annabeth turned, knowing already who was asking. The voice was unmistakable. "Thank you, but I am simply enjoying the sunshine, Neptune."

The young man swing down from his horse, his green eyes glinted with – what, fear? No, it was something else, she couldn't tell what. His voice lowered. "Out of the Observers, I am Officer Jackson, a soldier in His Royal army."

"Oh, I apologize," Annabeth said quickly. "I wasn't given many of your details, since we never officially met. I am Annabeth Chase."

He bowed, his the tails of his red coat blowing slightly in the bitter wind. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going." Officer Jackson swung up on his inky stallion, nodding again. He glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot, then leaned down. "I heard about your assignment. Did it go well?"

Annabeth nodded. "It did. But why didn't they just have you do it?"

He sighed. "Even though I am an officer, I am unable to complete assignments such as that – it would be nearly impossible to sneak things past the guard at the Neck, since I do not own a carriage."

Annabeth nodded again. "I understand. Good day, Officer Jackson."

"Same to you, Annabeth," he answered, nudging his horse forward. "I'm sure we will meet again, very soon."

•

Percy's horse, Blackjack, trotted down the Neck about an hour later, Percy noting the progress of the wall General Gage had ordered built. He knew, as a Patriot, that many Whigs were volunteering to work on the wall simply to "accidents", like sinking barges full of bricks and staging wheelbarrows tipping over and the like. However, as a senior officer, he had to wonder why General Gage hadn't caught on yet.

He noticed a carriage pulling out over the Neck, saw a flash of long blond curls, and realized it was Annabeth Chase and her father. He chuckled to himself. That girl certainly had some spunk, going against her family and the Crown to do what she thought was right. Not only that, but she was in the perfect position for one of the most dangerous jobs: spying. Something one would be shot or hung for, and she was eager to do it. He admired her courage, and at the same time, had a strange urge to try to protect her. He shook it off, though. If she wanted to risk her life, then so be it.

Rather like himself, he supposed. Here he was, only eighteen, a senior officer in the British army and top spy for the Whigs. Rather contradictory life goals.

He glanced up from his musings and realized, a second too late, that he was about to witness one of the so called _accidents_. A section of the wall was collapsing – right over the Chases' carriage. He spurred Blackjack forward, shouting incoherent warnings, but it was too late. The wall collapsed in a storm of bricks and crumbling mortar, pouring onto the top of the carriage.

Screams and shouts burst out from a hundred throats, dozens of men running forward and beginning to pull away the bricks, trying to reach the carriage to dig it out. The horses neighed with fright, their bonds cut by the sharp bricks, and bolted. Percy joined the men, heedless of the fact that his uniform was getting soiled and ripped, his nails breaking as the hard pieces of rock dug under them. He had to get the young Patriot and her father out, though he wasn't even sure if they were alive.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was only seconds, one of the men found a pale, white hand. Their efforts renewed, dozens more crowded in, doing their best to retrieve the carriage. Within seconds, the two unconscious bodies were removed from the crumpled carriage and placed on the ground, shouting men and a few crying women pushing to see.

"Move along, move along, I'm a doctor," came a voice, and Percy looked up to see Dr. Warren, a known patriot, push through the crowd. Although they both recognized each other immediately from the work in the Observers, they pretended not to as Percy quickly moved out of the way, dizzied by the sight of Annabeth's pale, lifeless-looking form and blood streaming from a wound in her temple.

Dr. Warren quickly pulled the young woman's mob cap off, checking her pulse, and then quickly moved to her father. "They're alive," he announced immediately, and a hundred sighs of relief and prayers of thanks were exhaled. Somehow, though few, if any, of these people actually knew the Chases, most of them had seen the girl with the golden curls skipping through the wharf, or been treated by the kindly doctor, and were grateful that the two were alive.

Percy knelt by Dr. Warren. "Observer spy," he muttered, and Dr. Warren immediately understood. "Will she be all right?"

"Yes, this wound on her temple, a broken ankle, and many minor cuts and bruises are all that she suffered," the doctor replied. "This man, however…"

"Her father, I believe," Percy supplied.

"Her father has a broken leg and some more serious wounds on his chest. I want to move both of them to my apothecary." Dr. Warren stood up. "Does anyone have a wagon I could use?"

As a few men volunteered a wagon, Annabeth's big grey eyes fluttered open, and Percy felt more relieved than he cared to admit, though he didn't quite know why. He had only met this girl a few weeks before. "Annabeth."

"Officer Jackson," she answered, wincing with pain as she moved her ankle a bit. "What… what happened?"

"Section of the wall collapsed and buried your carriage," he explained. "Your ankle is broken, you have a large cut on your forehead, and many minor cuts and bruises, but other than that, you are unharmed."

"What about my father?" Annabeth asked immediately, trying to sit up. The men had picked up the still unconscious older man and were carefully moving him into the back of the wagon. "Is he alright?"

"He is alive, though Dr. Warren wants him moved to an apothecary. He suffered a broken leg and a wound on his chest, besides many bruises and cuts. Dr. Warren wants to examine him and set the leg."

Annabeth nodded, the worried look on her face returning, the grimace of pain adding to the dirt and blood oozing from the cut on her temple. She again tried to sit up and fell back with a slight cry of pain. Percy caught her gently.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she gasped. "My ankle…"

"I understand," he said. She steadied her ankle, which was at a strange angle. Percy shut his eyes – for all the mock-battles and training he had been through, he had never been able to stomach wounds like this. He supposed he would have to, if there was actually a war, but still.

He made a quick decision and picked the young woman up, bridal style. She gasped with pain, her arms flying around his neck. He walked slowly to the wagon and helped her in. A few men offered their coats, but Percy knew these poor farmers couldn't spare articles of clothing. He took off his own officer's coat, leaving only his white shirt, and lay it over Annabeth to cover her from the chill wind.

"Thank… you," she managed, biting her lip in pain. Percy found that despite the dirt and blood on her face, she was rather beautiful, and her ripped dress slipping down her pale, soft shoulder didn't help. He flushed and looked down. Despite the other officers, who whistled crudely at the pretty young ladies going by, he wasn't like that. His mother had always taught him to show respect to women, and he was planning to stick by it.

"You are welcome, Miss Chase," he answered, backing away. "I hope you recover quickly."

With that, Percy swung back up on Blackjack and trotted back down the Neck, leaving a rather befuddled Annabeth watching him go. When he was at the exit of the Neck, he looked back at the wagon moving towards the city and smiled softly, before turning again and urging Blackjack into a brisk trot down the bumpy dirt road.

He smiled again, almost for a reason unknown to part of him, but knew he now had an excuse to pay a call to the Chases.

He had to retrieve his jacket, didn't he?

 **Please review! Any ideas for future chapters are welcome. :) Also, I started a new story called "You're Music to My Ears," a cute Jasiper AU, so check that out if you have the chance! Love ya'll!**

 **WM**


	4. The General's Offer

**Hey everyone! Again, sorry for the long update. School and all that rubbish. :D Anyway, here's the next chapter! Hope ya'll like it!**

 **Again, if anyone has any characters/ships you want me to add to future chapters, all you have to do is leave a review saying which ones, and I will work them in.**

 **Now, read, review, and enjoy! :)**

 _\- March 24, 1774 -_

Percy reigned in Blackjack, the horse's hooves clopping on the cobblestone street. "Whoa there, boy," he murmured as he swung down and tied the horse to a pole in front of the large brick house. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, the quick raps sounding through the foggy mist.

A maid with dark chocolate skin and curly, cinnamon-colored hair answered. "Officer," she said, curtsying. "Come in."

He did so, wiping his feet on the rug. "May I please see Mrs. Chase?"

"Certainly, sir. I will fetch her," the maid answered, bobbing another curtsy. Percy folded his arms and waited, taking in his surroundings as he did so. The large entryway was lit by numerous lamps set in the walls, rich rugs dotted the dark wood floor, and a huge, winding staircase led to the second floor. The Chases, it seemed, were one of the more wealthy Tory families in Boston, despite the harbor being closed.

Two young boys suddenly tumbled down the stairs, one sliding down the bannister and the other hopping from step to step in a mad rush to keep up. When they both reached the bottom at the same time, they began to argue, not even noticing the tall young officer standing before them.

"I won! I won!" shouted one.

"No, I won," the other argued, his young, boyish voice rising in frustration. "You always say you won, Bobby, but I did!"

"No, I did, Matthew!" the other one cried, stomping his little foot. As though they read each other's minds, the two boys suddenly noticed Percy standing by the door, watching them.

"Who are you?" the one called Bobby asked.

Percy grinned, forgetting he was supposed to maintain the stern British officer look. "Hello," he said, dropping to one knee so he could look the boys in the eye. "I'm Percy. Who are you?"

"I'm Bobby," one answered enthusiastically.

"I'm Matthew," replied the other one. Despite now know their names, Percy wasn't sure if he'd be able to tell them apart. The boys were almost perfectly similar, right down the their shaggy, dark brown hair and dark eyes.

Suddenly, the maid returned with a petite, dark haired woman dressed in a pale lavender dress. "Good day, officer," the woman said, curtsying politely. "I am Mrs. Chase. Is there something I can do to help you?"

Percy swallowed. Mrs. Chase was perfectly polite, but her dark brown eyes were cool. "I am Perseus Jackson, a senior officer in the Royal Army. I was wondering if Annabeth was available? I was going to inquire about her and Dr. Chase's health, since the accident was only a few days ago."

Mrs. Chase's demeanor immediately changed. "Oh, you are the young officer who helped get them back to town and lent Annabeth your jacket? They were very grateful."

Percy smiled tightly. "Yes, I was there. Is Annabeth available?" Alright, so maybe he hadn't come only for his jacket.

She smiled. "Yes, she's in the parlor. Come with me, please."

Percy followed the petite woman as she wound her way down the hall, chattering about Annabeth and he husband's health. The Chases' house was beautiful and expensive, he could give it that. He glimpsed a well-stocked library, in which a fireplace, loveseat, and a large wooden table and chairs resided.

Finally, they reached the parlor. "Annabeth, darling, someone is here to visit you."

Annabeth was seated on a delicate horsehair loveseat, her bandaged ankle propped up on a small, padded table. Her head bent over a thick book, she groaned. "Mother, I don't really want to visit right now – " She cut off when she saw Percy.

"Miss Chase," he greeted her, bowing to hide his smile. Annabeth certainly had a mind of her own, in more ways than one.

"Officer Jackson," she answered stiffly, her haphazard curls falling around her face and the bright blue, casual dress she was wearing wrinkled from sitting all day. "I apologize, I did not realize –"

"'Tis fine," he answered, taking a seat near the fire, facing the girl. "Mrs. Chase, may I speak to Annabeth alone?"

Mrs. Chase looked a slight bit flustered, but left, nonetheless. Percy leaned towards Annabeth, who had put down her book and was surveying him with interest. "So, what did you come here for?" she asked, narrowing her steely grey eyes.

"For one, my jacket," Percy admitted. "Two, I wanted to ask about your health."

"But that isn't all," Annabeth supplied for him.

"No, it is not," Percy admitted, his tone lowering. His brow dipped as he thought of the best way to break the different pieces of news to her. "I have numerous messages to give you."

She waited expectantly, another curl falling out of her lacy mobcap.

Percy took a deep breath. "First, Paul Revere is pleased. The man who was supposed to receive the message in the newspaper did so, thanks so you. No other officer besides myself even knows about newspapers, let about who delivered them."

Annabeth nodded.

"Because you did so well with the first assignment, he has another one for you," Percy continued. "Once your ankle heals, you'll be coming with me to the British camp, to offer yourself as a nurse. However, once I hear you decision on my next message, I may have to change that. And that leads me to the second message."

"Yes?" Annabeth prompted.

"I am rather close with General Gage. I have known him since I was young, and my mother was friends with him when they were children, back in England. He and Major Pitcairn have been… discussing something, and the accident on the Neck, unfortunately, brought them to you."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "What about me?"

Percy sighed. He didn't know why he wanted to protect this girl so much, but he did. And here he was, practically handing her a death sentence. "They have been needing another spy in Boston, preferably a young person, who is around both Loyalists and Patriots. Major Pitcairn heard of the accident, and immediately realized that you were in the perfect position to fill their needs, being of a Loyalist family but your father treating everyone regardless of beliefs."

To his surprise, Annabeth actually laughed. "So I would be a spy for both the Whigs and the Tories? That will be interesting."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "So you accept? Already?"

Annabeth's brow dipped. "Officer Jackson, I really have no choice. This position would give me a wealth of information for the Observers, information that could save lives. Paul Revere can help me with fake information to feed to the general."

Percy leaned forward. "Annabeth – Miss Chase – this only increases your own danger. A spy for the Patriots by itself is one thing, but if you are caught as a double agent? Your fate will be even worse, if possible."

He was surprised by the fire in her eyes as she answered. This was not a normal sixteen-year-old young lady. "As I said, sir, I have no choice. What is one life when thousands could be saved, if a war is prevented? And if the Whigs tried to stand up to England, I fear it would be a bloodbath. If I can avert that, even at the cost of my own life or freedom, I will."

Percy got to his feet, trying to ignore the sinking in his heart. "Very well. I will tell the Major. When your ankle heals, I or another officer will bring you to the British camp, and we will discuss this again." He bowed and kissed her hand politely. "This could end badly, Miss Chase."

Annabeth smiled tightly. "It could. And it could end well."

He strode to the door of the parlor and paused, looking back. Annabeth was gazing into the fire, her grey eyes reflecting the flames, her curls askew, her bandaged ankle making her look fragile and younger than she was. He wondered how someone so young, so vulnerable, could be so brave.

"Miss Chase?"

She turned. "Yes, Officer Jackson?"

"You know exactly what this could entail?" He had asked it before, but he asked again, hoping against hope she would change her mind.

"I do, and I am willing to face it."

He bowed again. "Then good day."

She dipped her head. "To you as well, Officer."

As Percy left, he tried to convince himself that Annabeth was smart and knew what she was doing, both of which were true. He tried to tell himself that the girl was nothing of his concern, and if she wanted a death sentence for her country, then so be it.

But a spark, long dead, had alighted in his heart. And despite the heavy weight pressing down knowing that Annabeth had made a choice that could lead to her death, the tiny flame only grew.

In some deep, secret part of him, he knew: The next time he saw Annabeth Chase, it would burn even stronger.

 **hehe! Perseus Jackson, a senior officer in the British Army, has a crush! *fangirls* Okay, trust me when I say the more reviews, the quicker I update. *hint hint* :D Love ya'll!**

 **WM**


	5. The Meeting with the Major

**Hey guys! Reposting this chapter because I found a bunch of mistakes because I didn't edit it at all and it was kind of awful. :D Thank you all so much for each and every review; they are all so appreciated! Thanks for sticking with me! :)**

 **Onto the story! Read, review, and enjoy!**

"Frederick, I have had enough," Mrs. Chase announced firmly at the dinner table a few days after Officer Jackson's visit. Annabeth, her ankle propped up on a stool as she ate, looked up.

Her father seemed to notice the tone of his wife's voice and looked up. "Yes, Helen?"

"These officers. Now, you know as well as anyone I am willing to do anything the king asks, but these officers – " she spluttered indignantly, "have completely taken over their rooms! Broken bottles of whiskey from the pub, food mixed with their clothes and personal necessities, chamber pots full of vomit after a night at the tavern – I simply can't abide it! Is there anything you can do to get us different soldiers?"

Dr. Chase sighed, but he knew his wife was right. "I'll see what I can do."

•

And that was what found Annabeth looking into a pair of bright green eyes two weeks later.

"Miss Chase, this man said he had to talk to you or Mrs. Chase about something," their maid said, ushering the senior officer into the parlor.

"Thank you, Hazel," Annabeth said distractedly, putting down her embroidery. The maid curtsied and left. "Officer Jackson?" she said after the door had closed, leaving them alone. "Is there something from the Observers or the General?"

"Neither. Well, the general, technically, but more like Major Pitcairn," he answered, sitting down. "Apparently your father talked to one of the other senior officers about the men who are currently boarding with you?"

"Oh, yes," Annabeth remembered. "Do you know if they were able to find officers who could be switched out?"

"That's why I'm here," he said. Annabeth was surprised to find a glint of humor in those green, green eyes. "I and another soldier, Officer Valdez, will be moving in tomorrow. I just came to tell you to have Lieutenant Nakamura and Lieutenant Octavian out by tonight."

Annabeth smiled. "Thank you, Officer Jackson. I'm sure you will be a better guest than the previous officers."

He grinned as he got up and bowed. "Good to hear. I will see you tomorrow, Miss Chase."

She nodded and gave him another smile. "Officer Jackson." For some reason, she felt herself wanting him to stay, but she shook it off as she picked up her embroidery again.

•

 _\- June 2_ _nd_ _, 1774 -_

Annabeth pushed a sweaty curl from her forehead. "You want me to _what?"_

"Well, I only have one horse, _Miss_ _Chase_ ," Perseus explained impatiently. "If you'd rather walk all the way to the camp, then please do so."

Annabeth's ankle was finally healed, and she and Officer Jackson had established a friendship, of sorts, though more out of necessity than anything else. Paul Revere and some of the other leaders of the Observers had decided since the officer and the girl spent so much time together anyway, from living in the same house and being in the same situation, working for both Loyalists and Patriots, they would be a good team.

So now Annabeth was stuck with Officer Jackson, or Perseus, as she found out his first name was. He turned out to be a caring, loyal young man – and _extremely_ annoying, once she got to know him better. But since Boston had been pretty quiet since the close of the harbor, Perseus had very little to do, and when the cold, rainy days had given into warm spring sunshine, the two had been spending a lot of time outside together.

Annabeth's ankle had slowly been healing, too, and although she had walked with crutches for a good while, she had finally given those up and was able to move without them, though burdened by a slight limp. He father, too, had been rested and healed quickly. Thankfully Luke had watched the shop while he was recovering, and Thalia had helped out as well.

But now that her ankle was healed, she had to report to the British camp to meet with Major Pitcairn about the offer he had made six weeks earlier. Only her parents had been told, because if she was to pose as a spy for the British it was imperative that it remained under wraps. They had been grim, because of the danger, mainly. Annabeth had chuckled inwardly a bit when they told her so – if only they knew how much danger she was _really_ in.

Her life was so complicated, it was nearly laughable. Here she was, a young Loyalist girl who was a spy for the Loyalists, pretending to be a spy for the Patriots, and the information she was feeding the Loyalists was actually false and she really _was_ a spy for the Whigs. On top of all that, her companion, Officer Jackson, was a spy for the Patriots _and_ a senior officer in the army.

"After all this time I go to the camp, and I have to ride double with you?" Annabeth asked grumpily, tucking another curl into her straw hat.

Perseus looked exasperated. "Annabeth, will you please just mount?"

"Fine, _Officer Jackson,"_ Annabeth snapped. "If my mother kills me because I'm not being ladylike, it will be entirely your fault." She hiked her layers of petticoats and blue linen skirt up higher, not noticing Perseus swallowing and looking away.

Thalia, of course, chose that moment to show up, just as Annabeth mounted behind Perseus and settled her arms around his waist. "Annabeth?" she asked, her electric blue eyes squinting in the sun. "Why are you both on the horse? Mrs. Chase won't be pleased if Annabeth doesn't ride sidesaddle."

Annabeth shot Perseus a look. He addressed Thalia, paying no attention to her. "We have to cross the Neck, and there is still construction going on. Blackjack is used to the noise, and since Dr. Chase took his carriage, this is our only option."

Thalia rolled her eyes, muttering something about lobsterbacks' stupidity. Perseus ignored her and spurred the black stallion on, barely leaving time for Annabeth to call a farewell to her friend over her shoulder. Annabeth wouldn't admit it, but as much as she had protested, she rather liked having an excuse to put her arms around the young officer's waist.

They trotted through the busy streets, weaving around ox carts and people in the marketplace, and she felt a twinge of nervousness about what they were about to go do.

Perseus voiced it for her. "You do realize there's no going back after this?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

They rode in silence after that. Annabeth loosened the ribbons of her hat, untying the bow near her chin and letting the sun warm her head and face. Her long golden curls fell out of her neatly-tied ribbon and fell down her back, touching her hips and flowing in the wind.

Perseus glanced at her and chuckled. "Your mother _definitely_ won't be pleased if she knew you were not protecting your face from the sun."

" _'Tis not ladylike, Annabeth!"_ Annabeth mimicked her mother, sighing. "I am a sixteen-year-old young lady. I think I can make some of my own choices."

Perseus grinned. "So risking your life and gathering information to help prevent a war aren't large enough choices for you?"

Annabeth wrinkled her nose at him. "No, I also choose to deal with perhaps being a bit sunburned."

Perseus laughed, and Annabeth was struck with the fact that she actually enjoyed being with him. They had spent a few days together in the weeks previous, yes, but much of it had been spent arguing over the most minute details. From why he enjoyed blueberries so much or why she liked to read even though the words seemed to spin off the page, everything that could be disagreed over, they disagreed over. But they were in the same boat, and Annabeth had a feeling they would be friends by the time they got out of it.

By this time, they were at the end of the Neck. "Senior Officer Perseus Jackson," he told the red-coated guards at the exit. They nodded and let the horse through, though their conspicuous stares and crude remarks j sent a blush to Annabeth's already sun-kissed cheeks.

"You should ignore them," Perseus said, his voice sounding like he was gritting his teeth. "Not all of us soldiers are like that."

"I know," Annabeth replied. She could see the camp now, the tents dotting the green fields outside Boston looking huge and forbidding. She shivered involuntarily, and she felt Perseus stiffen against her. She tried to get her mind off the next hours and asked, "Why did your mother name you Perseus?"

Perseus chuckled, though it sounded forced. He seemed to be as nervous as she was, though hiding it better. "She and my father were planning to get married, but he was drafted into the Navy before they could. A press gang got him; he was minding his own business, buying fish for my mum, I think, and they found him. His name was Poseidon – strange, I know, but my mum said he loved the ocean so much he was like the sea god in the myths. I was born six months after he left, but his ship was lost at sea." He laughed bitterly. "I've always wanted to meet him, ever since I was little, but my mum did a fine job of raising me on her own, I suppose."

Annabeth was silent, digesting this piece of information about her companion, then asked quietly, "What is your mum's name?"

"Sarah." He paused with a small smile, as though remembering something sweet. "She goes by Sally. She used to tell me the Greek stories, how Perseus and his mother were protected by the god Poseidon even though they had been thrown in the sea. She named me Perseus because of those old myths, so I would remember my father."

Annabeth smiled softly. "She sounds like a wise woman."

"She's amazing," Perseus agreed. "She used to call me Percy, when it was just me and her. She said that my father would be proud."

"Percy?" Annabeth asked, grinning. "It fits."

He laughed. "Then I give you permission to call me it. But only when no one else is around, or I might lose my cover as a stern British officer."

She laughed too, glad the solemn moment had passed, glad that the bitter look had disappeared from his face. "As you wish, _Percy_."

Suddenly she caught her breath. So distracted by talking to Percy, she had momentarily forgotten the fact that they were nearing the camp, and now they were there.

Four red-coated soldiers stood where the road led to the camp. "Officer Jackson," one said, nodding politely but sending Annabeth a frigid stare. "You do know visitors are not allowed inside camp without the Major's permission?"

Percy sent the other officer a glare of his own. "She has been invited by General Gage himself. And you will be used to seeing her, as she will be frequenting headquarters often."

The other man nodded and gestured for them to pass. Percy steered Blackjack through the maze of tents, waving friends and greeting fellow officers. It seemed Percy was well-liked among the camp. When they reached a larger tent, Percy dismounted quickly and helped Annabeth down. "Here we are," he muttered in an undertone.

Annabeth surveyed the tent, quickly retying her hat securely on her head. Two soldiers stood outside with muskets on their shoulders. "Officer Jackson."

Percy nodded at them. "We have a meeting with Major Pitcairn."

"I'll go tell him," one of the soldiers answered, ducking inside the tent. A moment later he reappeared and motioned them inside.

"Officer Jackson! Welcome, welcome. And this must be Miss Chase!" boomed a deep voice.

Annabeth jumped, then turned to the voice. A large red-coated man was seated behind a table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He stood up and bowed. "A pleasure to finally meet you. I trust your ankle is healed?"

"Oh, yes," Annabeth replied, a bit flustered. Percy sent her an amused glance as he exchanged pleasantries with the major.

"So Annabeth, Officer Jackson here has told you why I wished to meet with you?" inquired Major Pitcairn, sitting down again. He gestured to two wooden chairs near the table. "Oh, and please be seated."

Annabeth sat down quickly and smoothed her skirt with trembling hands. "Yes sir."

"And you have agreed to it?" the Major asked, leaning towards her.

Annabeth could practically feel Percy's thoughts through his rigid posture and set jaw, but she nodded anyway. "I have, sir."

"I do not know what the Whigs do to Loyalist spies, but our penalty for Patriot infiltrators is death," the major said, his red, kind face crinkling. "I know you live in a Loyalist family, but since your father goes to house calls of prominent Patriot families, we thought that would be a good place to start getting information that could benefit our cause."

"If I could, sir, may I interject?" interrupted Percy, leaning forward in his chair.

The major nodded, looking a bit taken aback. "Yes, Officer Jackson?"

Percy proceeded to explain all about the Observers. Annabeth was horrified at first, until she realized how cleverly Percy was rearranging the story. He failed to mention where they had been meeting, who exactly was in it, and most importantly, that Annabeth was already working as a spy there. "You see, sir, as I told you before, I have already offered myself as a Patriot spy. They believe that I am working completely for them and simply using my position here as a gateway for information. If we could also insert Annabeth, then we could work together."

The major looked impressed. "You certainly have thought this out, Officer Jackson. I think it just might work, if Annabeth here can use some acting skills."

Annabeth nodded. "I believe I could convince the Observers, sir. I have a Patriot friend who really does work with them, and with her help I'm sure I could get in."

Major Pitcairn nodded. "Since Officer Jackson here is also residing at your house, this could work very well indeed. I want you two to work together, especially gathering information from these Observer people. Locations, meetings, leaders, plans – I want them all."

"Sir, can you give us information to feed to them, though?" Annabeth asked. "They expect us to give them your plans, so if you could give us fake ones…"

"True, Miss Chase." The major regarded them thoughtfully. "You two could be truly useful. I will contact you soon." He stood, ushering them out. "Good day, Miss Chase, Officer Jackson."

Annabeth met his eyes. "And to you, Major." The warm sunlight hit her face, a sharp contrast from the dark, cool interior of the tent. He nodded at both of them, then ducked back inside the tent.

Percy helped her mount Blackjack, and they quickly trotted through the tents and reached the road again. Breathing a sigh of relief that made her feel as though she had been holding her breath the whole time, Annabeth said, "If this gets any more confusing, I will forget what side I am on."

Percy groaned. "You're a Loyalist girl who is a Patriot spy who is pretending to be a Loyalist spy who is pretending to be a Patriot spy pretending to be a Loyalist spy. What could be confusing about that?"

Annabeth laughed, undoing her hat again and letting the tension roll out of her shoulders. The bright blue sky made everything seem more hopeful, almost seeming to sugarcoat the fatal danger she had just put herself in. "Indeed."

 **And Percabeth is beginning... sorry to anyone who is looking for fluff but this will be rather drama-filled in later chaps, just letting you know.**

 **ILYSM, guys! Please, _please_ review! Could we get to 50? :)**

 **WM**


	6. The Pistol and the Storm

**Hey, you fabulous people! I'm updating today instead of Thursday because I was planning on updating You're Music to My Ears tomorrow and I had this chapter ready, so yeah! We're going to see a few more characters in this chapter, though more will be added in later as well. :D**

 **Please read, review, and enjoy! :)**

 _\- June 4_ _th_ _, 1774 -_

Percy steadied Annabeth's grip on the pistol. "Only high-ranking officers, majors and generals have pistols," he informed her. "They are much easier to carry around and shoot than muskets, but they are more expensive, so foot-soldiers cannot use them."

"If I can learn to shoot it, do you think you could acquire me one?" she asked. "I would pay you for it, obviously."

Percy considered. The request didn't surprise him – of course, not many normal girls would ask for a pistol, but Annabeth definitely had reconstructed his previous opinion of women. "I probably could, but first you must be able to aim and shoot accurately. _Very_ accurately." He pointed at the target, a hunk of wood about ten yards away, the red bulls-eye they had painted earlier glistening in the sun. "Of course, powder and shot are not very easy to come by nowadays, either. The army is guarding it maliciously to avoid any Whigs stealing it."

Tensions had grown in Boston. The citizens were tired and angry with the harbor still closed, and theft had grown in the marketplace with unemployed men desperate for food. If the harbor was continued to be closed, fighting between the Whigs and Tories would almost certainly break out.

Percy was started out of his thoughts by the wild gleam in Annabeth's eye. He took a step back, having learned the hard way it was better to back away when she looked like this. Her slender hands, tanned from being in the sun so often lately, grasped the warm metal, her finger an inch from the trigger. Her feet spread in an unladylike, but balanced stance, set firmer into the ground as her forefinger moved to the trigger, and –

 _Crack!_ The small gun fired with a puff of powder and a spark, and a dark hole in the direct center of the red circle appeared. Annabeth, her pretty face smudged with gunpowder, sent Percy a smug grin.

"All right," said Percy slowly, staring at the target in stunned disbelief. He had only shown Annabeth how to work the pistol a few minutes before, and this had been her first shot. "Now, let us see if you can do it again."

Annabeth put a bit more powder in the pistol, set her feet, and aimed again. Another crack; another minuscule hole almost touching the first one.

Percy gaped.

"So," she asked, blowing the smoke from the barrel calmly, "when can you get me that gun?"

•

 _\- June 7_ _th_ _, 1774 –_

"Officer Jackson, would you care for some tea?" Mrs. Chase asked.

Percy glanced up from the book he was reading. "No, but thank you."

Mrs. Chase nodded warmly and went to Annabeth. "Annabeth, dear, would you like some?"

Percy saw Annabeth's full pink lips purse into a slight frown. "No, thank you, Mother." He and she both agreed that they would not drink Loyalist tea, but it was difficult, living with the Chases, who were Loyalists to the core.

"Your library is amazing, Mrs. Chase," Percy said to change the subject. "Did you bring the books from England?"

Mrs. Chase nodded, smiling. "Yes. Annabeth and Frederick both enjoy reading, though I believe that us ladies," she glanced fondly at Annabeth, "have better pastimes."

"Mother," Annabeth growled from her chair by the open window. The salty breeze blowing from the harbor ruffled her long, golden curls as her tanned brow wrinkled with disgust. "A lady can be knowledgeable and intelligent."

"But, dear, a man looks for a gentle, submissive wife, not one with dozens of ideas stuffed in her head from reading books!" Mrs. Chase tried.

Percy watched as Annabeth lifted her chin a notch and answered, "Then maybe I shall not wed. I could remain an old maid and tend a tavern."

Mrs. Chase gasped, obviously hearing this idea for the first time. "Annabeth!"

"Yes, mother?" her daughter answered challengingly. "I know many perfectly respectable women who run mercantile or taverns or dress shops. Maybe I shall be one of them."

Percy almost laughed. The idea of Annabeth, who hated the extravagant dresses her mother insisted she wear so often, owning a dress shop was absurd. The tavern or mercantile, though, he could picture. Annabeth was fiercely independent, but she loved helping out at the Chases' shop.

Mrs. Chase sighed. "Annabeth, darling, there are many girls who are married and have children at your age. Very few women could actually manage a shop on their own, without a husband."

"What? You doubt my abilities, Mother?" Annabeth asked with a dry laugh. "Luke and I manage most of the accounting at Father's mercantile, and I help out so often, I could easily run it on my own."

Her mother looked weary. Percy suddenly pitied Mrs. Chase; her daughter must be a hard child to raise. "We shall discuss this later, Annabeth. Have you forgotten Officer Jackson is in the room? This is not the proper place or time for this argument."

Annabeth flushed, seeming to notice Percy for the first time. "I apologize, Per – Officer Jackson. I had forgotten you were here."

Percy nodded, hiding his grin. "Quite alright, Miss Chase."

Hazel suddenly appeared at the parlor door. "Ma'am," she said, curtsying, "there is someone at the door. Should I let him in, Miss Chase?"

Annabeth smiled gently. "How many times to I have to tell you, Hazel? You can call me Annabeth."

Mrs. Chase stiffened. "Annabeth, she is a servant, not an equal. She is perfectly correct in calling you Miss Chase."

Annabeth's cheeks flushed. "Mother – "

Mrs. Chase held up her hand. "No more, Annabeth. I do not wish to speak about this again. Hazel, you were saying?"

Hazel sent Annabeth a grateful glance from her warm amber eyes, then turned her attention back to her mistress. "There is a message for Miss Chase. If you will come to the door…"

Percy stood up and exchanged a silent conversation with Annabeth. It was either a message from Major Pitcairn or else one of the Observers, but this would not be a good time with Mrs. Chase in the room.

They followed Hazel's bobbing cinnamon-colored curls to the front door. A burly young man, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, stood there. He bowed politely to Annabeth and her mother and nodded at Percy. His heart fluttered in relief – this was one of the major's servant boys, not an Observer.

"I have a message for Miss Annabeth Chase, from Major Pitcairn," he announced. "My name is Frank Zhang, and the major wishes me to tell you…" he trailed off as his gaze fell on Hazel, who still stood holding the heavy door open. Her dark cheeks flushed and she quickly looked at the ground. Frank swallowed, then continued. "He wishes me to tell Miss Chase that she is requested to meet with him tomorrow afternoon."

"Tell him I shall be there," Annabeth answered.

"I… I will," the young man answered, still gazing at Hazel with a tinge of red in his cheeks. "Uh… good day, ma'am." He probably meant it for Mrs. Chase, but Percy could see it extended to the still-blushing young maid.

Frank tore his gaze away from Hazel and stepped back out to the door, tipping his hat, and then bounded down the steps, only to trip over his own feet and barely avoid falling on his face. Percy struggled to contain his laughter as the boy looked back over his shoulder, his face beet-red, and then smile like an angel at the young maid before continuing on his way.

Mrs. Chase frowned at Hazel as the maid shut the door, a small smile on her face. "Thank you, Hazel. You may leave now." Hazel curtsied and exited. Annabeth's mother turned her eyes to Percy and Annabeth. "Now, Officer Jackson, can you please bring Annabeth to the camp tomorrow? I can tell Dr. Chase to leave his carriage – "

"'Tis quite alright, Mother, I can ride on Per – Officer Jackson's horse," Annabeth said quickly.

Mrs. Chase raised her eyebrows. "Absolutely not, dear. You must ride in the carriage. A lady does not ride double, especially in the strong sun we have had."

Percy sighed inwardly, knowing another argument was forthcoming. Annabeth and her mother seemed to argue every time they opened their mouths to one another.

"Father probably needs his carriage, though, for a house call. He was telling me about it just yesterday," Annabeth lied smoothly. "I could use Thalia's horse, though."

Mrs. Chase seemed to realize Annabeth would either ride Thalia's mount or double with Percy no matter what she said and shook her head. "Alright, but you _must_ wear your hat. Your skin is getting darker by the day, and a lady's skin should be pale, not as brown as an Indian!"

"Yes ma'am," answered Annabeth tautly, her pale yellow dress swishing as she turned to go to her room. She spun around again suddenly and fixed Percy in a stormy stare. "Oh, Officer Jackson, have you yet gotten the… the _package_ I asked you about a few days ago?"

Percy's face turned blank for a few seconds. "What package?"

"The package I asked you about?" Annabeth insisted, sending him a heated look. "Remember?"

 _The pistol!_ "Oh, uh, I have inquired about it, and I should have it by tomorrow," Percy answered quickly.

Annabeth gave him another look, one that Percy was rather accustomed to; the look that said _You are really an idiot sometimes._ He supposed he deserved it. "Thank you, Officer Jackson."

Percy grinned at her, making Annabeth roll her silver eyes again. "My pleasure, Miss Chase."

•

 _\- June 8_ _th_ _, 1774 -_

"Thalia, please?" Annabeth begged. Percy wondered how anyone could refuse Annabeth's puppy-dog grey eyes, but Thalia didn't budge. "I _have_ to."

"No," the black-haired girl said, shaking her head. "I told you, Pine doesn't like anyone to ride him beside me."

"But I'm a good rider!" Annabeth insisted.

"I do not care. Pine will throw you, and do we really want that? Besides, he doesn't like sidesaddles, and knowing your mother, she will make you ride sidesaddle." Thalia crossed her arms obstinately.

Annabeth groaned. "Thals, I _have_ to go to the camp. You know that."

"Find someone else," Thalia answered stubbornly. "I am sorry, Beth, but do I really want you to get thrown halfway to the camp? Ask your father. Maybe you could borrow one of his carriage horses."

Annabeth groaned. "I told Mother he had a house call yesterday so we wouldn't have to ride in the carriage. The problem is, he really _does_ have a house call."

"What's the matter, Bethie?" asked a young blond man, walking up to the little group.

Percy stiffened, though he didn't really know why. Something about this handsome young man and the way Annabeth glanced at him made him uneasy.

"Oh, hello, Luke," she said brightly. "I needed to borrow a horse, and Thalia will not let me use Pine."

"Now why would she do that?" the young man teasingly.

Thalia huffed, but she softened. "Luke, don't you dare start using that face on me. Annabeth cannot ride Pine."

Luke looked mock-hurt. "What face?"

Thalia rolled her electric blue eyes. "The face you always make when you want something."

Luke laughed. "I don't know what you are talking about, Thals."

"I really, really need a horse for this afternoon, though, Luke," Annabeth pleaded.

"For what, Annie?" he asked, his blue-grey eyes softening. Percy could tell he and Annabeth were close. "What will you be doing?"

"We will be going riding," Percy injected himself into the conversation. "Annabeth's mother did not wish us to ride double on my horse." He could feel envy rising up in a green stream in his heart, though why he was jealous of Annabeth's and Luke's relationship he wasn't sure. They had obviously known each other for a while, and Percy was painfully aware that Annabeth was not a small, innocent child anymore, as Luke seemed to view her.

Luke raised his eyebrows unconcernedly, as though noticing Percy for the first time. "And you are…"

"Senior Officer Perseus Jackson of the Royal Army," Percy stated, ignoring Annabeth's annoyed look. "I am currently quartered at the Chases' residence and will continue to be there until His Majesty sees fit."

Percy thought he saw a flicker of something in Luke's eyes, be it anger, jealousy, or something else, he couldn't tell. "Of course, officer," the blond-haired man said, bowing courteously. He turned back to Annabeth, and there was a coolness in his voice that had not been present a moment before. "If it pleases you, Annabeth, you may borrow my horse."

Annabeth's blond eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she said simply, "Thank you so much, Luke." Her arms found her way around his neck in a quick embrace of thanks, and Percy saw Luke's clenched hands and stiffened shoulders relax at her gentle touch. The green flame of jealousy burned a little brighter.

"Of course, Annie," he murmured into her shoulder. Pulling back, he coughed awkwardly, and the coldness returned to his gaze. "Well, I shall go get Hermes. Shall I bring him to your house?"

"No," Annabeth said quickly, shaking her golden head. "I am going to the mercantile now, so if you could bring her there?"

"Certainly. I have to be there this afternoon anyway." Luke bowed. "I must be going now, Thalia," – his expression turned frosty – "Annabeth. Officer Jackson," he said nodding stiffly at Percy. Percy nodded back, his neck feeling rigid.

The three of them watched silently as Luke strode down the street. "He acted strangely after you introduced yourself, _Perseus_ ," Annabeth observed angrily. "Could you not have simply let me introduce you?"

"He would have met me anyway, Annabeth. I don't see the problem here," Percy answered, frustrated.

"He _was_ acting strangely," Thalia agreed, sounding more worried than upset with him.

"Have you two been arguing again?" Annabeth asked her.

Thalia bit her lip. "Yes. I was surprised he was that jovial in the beginning. I think he was happy to see you, Annabeth, and then when Officer Jackson said you were going riding together, he looked jealous. I think he's just being overprotective; he still views you as his little sister, Beth."

Annabeth nodded, and Percy refused to notice the light that had faded from her eyes as Luke walked away. "I suppose. Do you think I should tell him, Thalia? About the Observers, and then Major Pitcairn's offer?"

Thalia shook her head slowly. "I rarely keep things from Luke, but I think it would be best if you did not tell him, if not only for a while. He's not been acting like himself lately."

Annabeth nodded disappointedly, biting her lip. "Yes, you're right. Come on, Perseus, we should probably be going to the shop now." She turned to Thalia. "Bye, Thals."

"Goodbye, Beth," Thalia answered, giving her friend a quick embrace. "Be careful, all right? With the Major, I mean."

"I will," replied Annabeth quietly. Percy noticed her eyebrows were crinkling again. She always did that when she was confused or nervous, or worse, angry. He hoped she wasn't, or at least not at him – an angry Annabeth was a frightening Annabeth.

Thalia raised her hand in farewell as Percy and Annabeth began to walk down the side of the narrow alleyway. Percy could hear the bustling marketplace a few streets away.

He reached out and patted Annabeth's shoulder, trying to be comforting, but she jerked away. The episode with Luke was affecting her more than she had let on. "Annabeth – "

"Save it," she snapped. "I do not wish to talk to you right now."

"But Annabeth – " he tried again.

"Percy, I said to be quiet!"

"Annabeth! We are not going in the right direction to the shop," Percy told her.

Annabeth didn't hesitate as she continued to stalk down the street. "I know. It is only about eleven, and Luke doesn't begin working until at least one."

"So… where are we going?" Percy ventured cautiously.

Her curls whipped around as she turned to him angrily, inconspicuously wiping a tear spilling from her grey eyes. "For the last time, Percy, I do not want to speak to you or anyone else right now! If you can't hold your tongue, then leave me be!"

Percy sighed and remained silent, falling behind the young woman and following her. Her brisk, angry steps wound through the town, down side streets and cool, dark allies, avoiding the main streets. Suddenly they stepped between two buildings and onto the wharf, streaked with sunlight. Percy winced, his eyes not used to the light after the shadowing streets they had just come from. He was temporarily blind for just a moment, but that was all it took for Annabeth to slip away.

He opened his eyes again, grimacing, and found that the girl had disappeared. "Annabeth?" he called, thinking for a moment she had simply gone into another ally. But she didn't answer.

"Annabeth!" he tried again, searching over the abandoned wharf for the young woman. He strode across the bricked walkway to where the sea lapped against the stones. Barnacles clung to a forgotten fishing net, halfway in the water. The tide seemed to be going out, the water gradually receding.

Percy felt a twinge of panic but forced it down with an air of irrational calmness. Annabeth couldn't be in the water; they had been too far away when she disappeared, and she would have made a splash if she had fallen in.

His heart seemed to skip a beat when he heard a muffled sob coming from behind a couple of boxes stacked by the edge of the wharf. He made his way towards it quietly. "Annabeth?" he asked again, softly.

She was crying, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking, her bare feet dangling over the edge of the wharf and lapping the water, her lavender dress crumpled to her knees. Percy knelt down quietly, took off his shoes and long stockings and laid them beside hers, and sat next to her. His long legs dangled, toes grazing the water. He realized suddenly this was the first time he had seen Annabeth cry – even when she had broken her ankle, she hadn't shed a tear. And now she was sobbing.

All because of him. He really wished he could learn to think before he acted, for once. Luke was an old friend of Annabeth's – why did he feel the need to protect her when the blond-haired young man was around? That handsome smile carried something sinister, very hidden, very veiled, but there.

It wasn't just jealousy, he told himself. It was wanting to keep Annabeth safe (though she had told him time and again she could keep herself safe). Percy felt a surge of protectiveness go through his veins even when Annabeth _wasn't_ in danger, though she usually found a way to insert herself into any risk available. It was just… _Annabeth._ He certainly hadn't thought, when he had bumped into Annabeth that rainy spring day, that he would ever grow this close to her.

Annabeth sniffled, and he instinctively leaned over to offer her a handkerchief. She accepted it quietly, then said, "I am sorry."

"'Tis nothing to be sorry for, Annabeth," he answered, knowing he was treading on thin ice here, but wanting to get it out anyway. "I shouldn't have introduced myself like that, right then. You were right."

"I shouldn't have made such a large issue of it, but I have known Luke for years, and to see him act like that…" she took a deep, quaking breath. "I'm sorry."

Percy nodded, knowing now was not the time to tell her about the veiled malice he thought he saw in Luke's eyes.

Annabeth pulled her pale feet from the water and slowly pulled her long, long stockings back up. Percy quickly averted his eyes until she reached for her shoes. He quickly pulled on his own stockings and shoes and helped her up. "Shall we go to the mercantile now?" he asked.

Annabeth nodding, wiping the last remaining tears from her cheeks. "Let's go."

Percy took her hand, and even through her red-rimmed eyes and wrinkled dress, her tangled curls and tear-streaked face, Percy honestly thought she looked beautiful.

Then he chastised himself. _Where did that come from?_ He and Annabeth Chase could never love each other – she was too smart and witty and sarcastic, he was too stubborn and laid-back. She was a sixteen-year-old Loyalist girl in Boston; he was eighteen, a senior officer, and would be moving back to England as soon as the king permitted.

Their situations were too different. Their core _personalities_ were too different. They wouldn't fit.

But when Annabeth enfolded his hand with a grateful little smile, and when the salty breeze blew a loose wooden bucket into their way and Percy had to jump over it and _she laughed,_ the sweet, bell-like laugh she possessed, the sparkle back in her silver eyes when she looked at him _–_

Percy grinned back, and decided maybe, just maybe, they could try.

 **And that's all for today, everyone! PLEASE REVIEW because every single review makes me smile and inexplicably brightens my day. :D For all of you have have already reviewed, faved, or followed, can I just say thank y'all SO much? Ya'll are amazing. *heart***

 **WM**


	7. The Major's Conference

**Hey everybody! Sorry I'm a day late, or a week late really since I didn't update last week. The Christmas season is always SUPER busy for me, so yeah. Hopefully I will be updating more often, especially after the New Year!**

 **So I have a proposition for ya'll: I'm going to be introducing at three new characters soon, Jason, Piper, and Calypso. (If there are other characters you want me to add besides those three, then please leave a review telling me which ones!) Anyway, Piper will be a Native American girl, but what should Jason and Calypso be? Should Jason be a Patriot or Loyalist? What about Calypso? What should their occupations be? if you don't care or like it any way, then I'll just make up something, but I love hearing from ya'll! :)**

 **Okay, done with the long AN. Onto the story! Please read, review, and enjoy!**

 _-June 8_ _th_ _, 1774 -_

"How do you do it?" Percy asked her wonderingly.

Annabeth shrugged. "I got used to it, after a while. My mother always makes me ride sidesaddle, and Hermes tolerates the saddle."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, sidesaddle looks like torture."

Annabeth grinned good-naturedly. "It is."

They rode quietly for a while after that, the warm sun beating down on their shoulders as the dust stirred by the horses' hooves danced in the rays before settling back down to rest. The scent of fresh grass breezed by, mixed with the smell of hay and cows grazing in the nearby fields.

Annabeth was still a bit shaken after the events of the morning. She had surprised even herself by breaking down like that after Luke had given them the cold shoulder – she so rarely showed her emotions to anyone, let alone Percy, the cause of her distress. And yet she had still sobbed openly in front of him. Really, she hadn't been able to stop even if she had wanted to. Luke was like her older brother, and feeling like he had shoved her aside in stupid jealousy over her friendship with Percy – well, it hurt, to be honest. She hadn't even thought of the two young men clashing heads, but then again she hadn't had any reason to think they would until now.

It didn't help that she was yet again nervous for this afternoon. This would be her first time meeting with the major with actual information to feed him. She had met with Paul Revere a few days before, and he had given her some trivial information to tell the major. Apparently, the minute men, an assembly of untrained farmers and merchants who had begun to train in case the British soldiers would not leave, had been previously training in a field outside the Neck. Now, a new group would begin training on the Boston Common, right in the view of the British soldiers quartering there. Revere had decided to start out slow, but by giving him some real information that wouldn't harm the Observers, Annabeth would be hopefully given more information from the major later on as his trust in her grew.

Annabeth shuddered as she thought of the minute men again. The group of bumbling farmers, merchants, and former sailors were the worst shots she had ever seen. Some of the farmers, at least, had experience hunting, but the merchants and sailors were still trying to understand how to work the old muskets. The few guns the group had obtained had were old and awkward, especially compared to the British army's well-oiled muskets and bayonets. They were dedicated, though, Annabeth had to give them that, but their efforts were futile in the wake of the well-trained, well-supplied redcoats.

Percy broke into her thoughts with that awkward grin of his again. She had noticed his frequent glances the past few days, the ones he had thought he had hidden well but really were as plain as day. "I obtained your package."

Annabeth turned to him sharply. "You did? That quickly?"

He grinned, looking pleased with himself. "Indeed." Digging in his large saddlebag, he produced a fine pistol and leaned over to hand it to her. Annabeth took it, marveling at the work of art. She knew Percy had gone out of his way to get it for her, and whether just to please her, protect her, or even just save himself from her when she was angry, she was grateful. She ran her thumb over the handle; the wood was dark and smooth, the metal shiny.

"Thank you, Percy," she told him softly, smiling.

His own grin widened and his voice was rough when he answered, "You're very welcome."

"Is it loaded?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable under his open gaze. Percy was a friend. Nothing more.

"What? Oh. No, 'tis not. Here," he said, seemingly startled out of his reverie and digging through his saddlebag once again. He handed her a small leather pouch. "There is some shot and powder in there. You can load it, but I would not use it often, since shot and powder are coming by hard now."

Annabeth nodded, smirking. "I shall hide it in my handbag." She gestured toward the lacy little thing that normally contained only handkerchiefs and perhaps some silver. "The bag looks like it will fit perfectly, and the pistol will hide under a petticoat."

He laughed. "Everyone thinks you're such a perfect lady, and you have a gun in your dress and a powder bag in your purse. I must say, you're a bit terrifying, Annabeth."

She pretended to simper. "Do you think so?"

Their laughter was interrupted by a slight rise in the road revealing the British camp. The feeling of unease in Annabeth's stomach grew into a knot of worry. What if the major found out? What if something went wrong? Her life and maybe Percy's as well would forfeit.

The guards saluted Percy. "Officer Jackson, sir," one said. Percy nodded back, his glare looking harder than he had probably meant, since the guards' gazes again lingered on Annabeth. She sent a slight incline of her head their way and began to make her way through the tents.

They reached the major's tent quickly enough, and Annabeth dismounted easily while Percy spoke with the red-coated soldiers outside. They immediately nodded and let them in. Apparently, their visit was anticipated by more than the major.

Annabeth stepped inside, letting her eyes again adjust to the immediate loss of light. The major, his desk lit by single lamp flickering in the dim light, looked up as they came in.

"Ah, Miss Chase and Officer Jackson. Good day," he said, rising from his seat. "Do you have any news today?"

"As I said yesterday, Major, Annabeth met with the Observers last night, but she has not yet told me what she learned," Percy said. Annabeth tried not to show her surprise that he had met with the Major already and she didn't know – after all, he was an officer, and he had left the house early yesterday afternoon and hadn't returned until after Annabeth left for the meeting.

"Yes sir, I do have some news. 'Tis slight, but as much as I could get for now," Annabeth said, surprised how easily the lies fell from her lips now. Was that what she had become – a liar, a deceiver? No, she was only doing this to help others, not herself. And part of it was true – there wasn't a huge amount going on in the Observers now anyway. "The group of minute men who have been training beyond the Neck will now be training others – a group of merchants, I believe – in the Boston square."

The major nodded thoughtfully. "That is helpful to know – some soldiers had already reported that the group had not met in their usual spot today, but I did not know the reason." He looked toward Percy expectantly. "Have you learned anything since yesterday? I know 'tis a bit much to ask for only the span of a day, but…"

"Yes sir, I actually do," Percy said, and again Annabeth hid her surprise. "I met also with Governor Hutchinson. He received a message from the king himself a few days ago – he is to return to England and be replaced by General Gage by the end of the year."

The mayor nodded again, looking interested. "I shall have to inquire about that. Thank you, Officer Jackson, Miss Chase." He nodded in dismissal. "I will send my messenger boy when I have need of you again. If you need to tell me something in the future, simply send me a message through Officer Valdez, who is quartering with you, I believe?" He looked to them in confirmation, and they both nodded. "He returns to camp almost every day, so if there is a message from either of you, I shall be sure to receive it." Major Pitcairn dipped his head again before dipping his quill in the ink bottle and scratching away on the parchment in front of him.

"Good day, major," Annabeth said politely and exited the tent. As the sun hit her face, she wondered how in the world the major could stay cooped up in the tent all day – the glorious breeze and sun were almost impossible to resist.

They both mounted their horses and trotted through the maze of tents and cooking fires and horses to the road. The guards let them out, and they were out in the open again.

"Why didn't you tell me you had met with the Major yesterday? Or the governor, for that matter?" Annabeth demanded as soon as the camp had faded from earshot.

Percy's shoulders seemed to deflate a bit. "I am sorry, Annabeth. I would have told you, but it just never came up, and you had to leave for the Observer meeting, and I just couldn't find the time."

Annabeth huffed. "We are partners, for both sides, Percy. We have to tell each other everything."

He nodded, his green gaze bright and shining, and Annabeth again felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at her. He wasn't looking at her like she was an object, like the guards and other soldiers had been, but the way he was gazing at her was almost worse, in her mind – like he cared about her, and she refused to let that happen. Not after what had happened in her own family. People only cared until they tired of the game, and then they left.

She had to admit to herself, maybe she caught herself gazing at the young officer when his back was turned. How his sea-green eyes would catch the light and glint with flecks of blue, how he wore his inky hair short and choppily, right above his ears, instead of a long, tidy ponytail like most men. He made her laugh more than she had ever before she met him, even with the dangerous business of being a double spy. He had taught her and guided her and helped her, even when there was absolutely nothing in it for him.

If Annabeth was completely honest with herself, she wanted to let herself fall for him. To court him, get married, have children, grow old – together. She had only known him for a few months, but after spending almost every day with him and getting to know him as well as she knew Luke and Thalia, her best friends she had known for years, then maybe she could. Maybe they could love each other as more than good friends and fellow spies.

But her mother had said she loved her father, too. And look where that had gone.

She realized Percy was still looking at her, his eyes soft, to answer her snapped reply. Annabeth almost couldn't bear it, letting him grow closer like this. She didn't want him to get close enough to hurt her, but he already had. He had walked into her life, and no matter how he left it – through death or other circumstances – she would never be the same.

"For you, Annabeth, I would tell you anything."

 **And that's all for today! The story will be getting a lot more interesting pretty soon, but all these are kind of filler chaps to make the rest of the story make sense and also build Annabeth's and Percy's relationship.**

 **Please review! :)**

 **WM**


	8. Swimming and Sickness

**Hey everyone! SO sorry for the long wait - as I said, the holidays are a super busy time for me, but I should get back to updating at least weekly, maybe even twice a week now that we're back to normal. I have a nice long chap though to make up for the wait!**

 **Please read, review, and enjoy! :)**

 _\- September 13_ _th_ _, 1774 –_

"Ha!" shouted Annabeth, looking gleeful. "Got you!"

Percy groaned, wiping the rotten-apple sludge out of his eye. "That's the _third_ _time_ , Annabeth. If your grandmother comes out and finds you like this – "

Annabeth shrugged, biting into a crisp red apple carelessly. "I don't care." A mischievous look crept into her grey eyes as she glanced down at Percy. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to join me up here?"

Percy felt a shiver of fear just looking at her. They were at Annabeth's grandparents' house, far from Boston, in Virginia, near Williamsburg. David and Sarah Chase, Frederick Chase's parents, owned an apple orchard on their large plantation, and they had invited Annabeth to spend a few weeks there at the harvest. Percy had come along, in part because Annabeth's parent's insisted on having someone to keep an eye on their slightly rebellious seventeen-year-old, and partly because the tensions in Boston had grown.

The warm Indian summer air was thick with the scent of apples baking in the late summer sun, and in true Annabeth fashion, she had climbed to the very top of the tree and sat on the highest branches with her golden curls blowing in the gentle breeze. Percy disliked heights, and after Annabeth had found out this fact she never let it go.

He glanced up again. "Our basket's almost full. Just a few more should do it," he called. Annabeth nodded, her mouth full, and reached to pull a branch heavy with fruit closer to her. Her creamy forehead, so often creased with worry lines, was smooth and carefree, the lavender circles under her eyes faded. He liked seeing her like this, happy and not thinking about making up some new story to feed Major Pitcairn.

"Incoming!" she called, sending down two apples. Percy caught them and placed them gently in the basket. She threw down a couple more, making the basket full.

"That's good!" he told her, watching as she easily swung down from the branch and her bare feet found footholds in the rough bark. She finally landed on the grass beside Percy, shaking leaves out of her hair.

He pulled a piece of bark from a golden curl and carefully moved a branch out of her way. They finally stepped into the warm sunshine, free from the cool shadows in the trees.

"Let's leave the basket here and pick it up before we go back to the house," Annabeth suggested.

Percy laughed. "Swimming?"

She grinned back. "Swimming."

Although back in Boston, if the two had ever gone swimming together it probably would have caused a scandal, out in the fields and woods of Virginia it was fine. The river flowing through the fields, bordering the edge of the forest, was clear and cool, perfect for the sweltering September weather.

Annabeth took off running, her mob cap falling off and her bare feet kicking up dust on the dirt pathway leading down the hill. Percy laughed and followed her, relishing in the feeling off his toes, normally cooped up in tall leather riding boots, digging in the dirt. In less than a week, he had gained calluses from bare feet constantly, and with just a thin shift instead of his thick red uniform, he was quickly getting tanned in the hot sun.

They had reached the river, and Annabeth was already pulling off her light pink dress, leaving on a shift and bloomers underneath. Percy had blushed furiously and looked away the first time they had gone swimming, but after so many times he was used to it. He pulled his own shirt over his head, pretending not to notice how Annabeth let her eyes linger on his tan torso.

She jumped lightly onto a fallen log overlooking the river, the trees shading her. Percy grinned as she jumped in with a large splash and followed her. She squealed as she surfaced and was dunked by Percy, shivering in the cool water.

After swimming and splashing each other for about half an hour, they climbed back onto the grass and lay in the sun, letting the warm air dry their sopping clothes.

Percy glanced at Annabeth. "What time did your grandmother say tea was?"

Annabeth leapt up. "Oh, dear. I think she said we were having company too – Percy, let me have your watch!"

Percy grinned impishly holding the watch an inch above her flailing hands. "What do you say, Miss Chase?"

"Perseus Jackson, I swear," Annabeth threatened, her glare directed at him, "if we're late again my grandmother will kill us – or _me_ , specifically. She dotes on you."

"I know," Percy sang. "I am a British officer doing my duty to our country, England, and serving our king." He finally let Annabeth have the gold pocket watch he always carried, and she quickly unclasped the cover.

"If she only knew…" Annabeth muttered grouchily. Her face paled as she checked the time. "We have ten minutes to get up to the house and changed."

"Dammit," Percy muttered, pulled on his shirt frantically and threw Annabeth her dusty pink dress. They raced up the hill, to where the sprawling plantation house sat overlooking the fields of cotton.

"This… is all... your fault," Annabeth panted as she ran up the green hill leading to the house.

"How… is it… my fault?" Percy asked her, struggling to catch his breath. "You're… the one… who suggested we go swimming!"

"You should have kept track of the time, idiot!" Annabeth hissed. "Now come on. We're going to have to sneak in." She beckoned to the right, instead of the going up the steps of the front porch. Percy followed her, shaking his head.

They crept around the huge house, to the servant's entrance. Annabeth brushed her hand along the top of the door, feeling for a key, and unlocked the heavy door. It opened with a _creak_ , and Percy quickly followed Annabeth into the hallway, cool and dark compared to the heat of the day outside.

"We'll have to use the servant's staircase," she whispered. Percy nodded assent and followed her. Together, they crept up the dark staircase. Goosebumps rose on Percy's arms, his wet skin and hair making him shiver.

Annabeth halted and opened a door cautiously, peeking out to make sure no one was coming. "Come on," she whispered. "This is your floor."

"Thank you," he murmured back.

She grinned at him. "If you get downstairs first tell my grandparents I had a headache and will be joining them shortly. I mean, my head does hurt, so it's true."

Percy stifled a laugh. "All right."

He quickly traveled to his room and pulled off his damp, dusty clothes. He pulled on fresh breeches, stockings, and shoes. He then buttoned up a linen undershirt and reluctantly put on his red wool jacket. If there was company, he would be expected to look like a proper British officer, even if it was uncomfortable.

Percy wet his hands in a bowl of water on his dressing table and ran it through his hair, doing his best to tame the wild black strands. One of these days he might grow it out into a ponytail, like most men did, but he had never developed a knack for fixing it and had chopped it to his ears when he was made an officer.

When he deemed himself presentable, he exited his room and hurried down the stairs, pausing to glance up when he heard a door on the floor above him slam. He shook his head, grinning and knowing Annabeth was frenziedly getting ready for tea.

"Officer Jackson," Sarah Chase greeted him at the bottom of the curved, glossy staircase. These were the front stairs, so it was shiny and smooth compared to the servants stairway

Percy greeted her with a smile. "Hello, Mrs. Chase."

. Sarah Chase's gentle voice went along with her sweet demeanor and soft grey hair under the lacy mobcap. Her aged forehead suddenly wrinkled into a thousand worry lines. "Do you know where Annabeth is? I had thought she would be here by now. We have company."

"I believe she mentioned she had a headache earlier, so she will perhaps be a little late," Percy lied smoothly, escorting Mrs. Chase to the front room, where David Chase chatted amiably with a young man with white-blond hair and a tiny scar on his upper lip.

"Officer Jackson!" Mr. Chase said, standing in greeting. "This is our neighbor, Jason Grace."

The young man, about Percy's age, stood up and bowed politely, but stiffly. He had stern, bright blue eyes, and well-defined muscles under his linen shirt and grey wool jacket. "Officer Jackson."

"He owns the neighboring plantation, but he will be moving to Boston in a month to take over a tavern that his uncle owns," Mr. Chase explained. "He has just returned from a trip to Boston yesterday, bringing some of his things up there."

Percy nodded. Jason's mouth was set in a firm line – obviously he was a Patriot. Percy held in a laugh, thinking of what Jason would do if he found out that maybe Percy wasn't the high-and-mighty British officer he appeared to be.

Suddenly Annabeth appeared at the door. She had cleaned up quickly, her curly hair having mostly dried in the sun on the way back. She was wearing a light blue, cotton dress, and a lacy mobcap covered her still damp curls, although she looked a bit pale. She curtsied, every inch a proper lady and far removed from the girl who went swimming in the river and climbed to the top of apple trees.

Percy noticed Jason's cheeks coloring and felt a tinge of jealousy, but he pushed it down. "Mr. Grace, this is Annabeth Chase, granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Chase."

The blond-haired man bowed. "A pleasure, Miss Chase."

Annabeth, seeming to sense Percy's hands tightening into fists, came over and took his arm. He relaxed as she touched him, pretending not to notice Mrs. Chase looking pleased at them together. He and Annabeth took a seat on the horsehair loveseat, Percy digging his boot-clad toes into the plush carpet to keep from sliding off the slippery sofa. He glanced over at Annabeth, who was biting her lip. "Are you alright?" he whispered while Mr. Chase talked to Jason about the cotton harvest.

"I am rather tired," she admitted. "And my headache's getting worse. I probably should take a nap later."

He nodded and squeezed her hand gently. She sent him a crooked Annabeth-smile, and Percy felt a rush of warmth.

Small talk was made for a few moments before tea was served. Percy brightened when he saw there were blueberry scone and took three, pretending not to notice Annabeth shaking with suppressed laughter beside him. She daintily took one from the china plate, and Percy shot her an _Are you crazy_ look. Annabeth just rolled her eyes.

After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Chase excused themselves, leaving the three young people alone and rather awkward.

After five minutes of talking about the weather, which had already been covered earlier and Percy certainly didn't need to discuss again, he blurted, "Would you like to come to the stables? Perhaps we could go riding."

Jason's face relaxed. "Certainly."

Percy offered Annabeth a hand. "Would you like to join us, Annabeth?"

She shook her head. "Thank you, but I believe I shall go take a nap before supper." She quickly excused herself.

"Are you two… courting?" Jason asked hesitantly after Annabeth had left.

"What? Oh, no, we are not," Percy stuttered. "I mean, I would, but she doesn't want to and it's kind of a complicated situation…"

"Oh, about that, uh, _complicated situation_ ," Jason said in a low voice, before stopping and glancing around warily. "Let us speak in the stables. I have something I am supposed to tell you."

Percy was confused, but went along with Jason anyway, the burning sun beating down on his red wool jacket. He looked longingly towards the river, sparkling along the edge of the woods. Perhaps after Jason left he and Annabeth could go fishing.

They entered the stable, and Jason immediately pulled off his formal coat. "I apologize, but it is much too warm for that," he said, laughing. "I suppose when I move to Boston I shall have to get used to wearing them all the time, but not yet."

Percy laughed easily, pulling off his own coat. "True."

The other man's face darkened. "I have a message for you from Sam Adams."

Percy raised his eyebrows. Samuel Adams was a well-known member of the Sons of Liberty, a group that defied the British rule and worked closely with the Observers and other spy groups around Boston. "Yes?"

Jason glanced around cautiously. "He says you need to be careful. More and more soldiers are deserting, and with you being gone already for a week…"

Percy nodded, feeling relief that that was all Sam was worried about. "We will be returning in another week, so I do not believe I have anything to worry about, though I might send a letter to my commander. Paul Revere knows where I am, as well. But… why did Sam tell you about me?" He decided not to mention Annabeth's missions, not knowing whether Jason could truly be trusted or not.

"Why, I am a Son of Liberty too. I have known Sam since I was a boy and he was a hot-headed young man," Jason replied, as though surprised Percy didn't know. "I am moving to Boston in order to help with the group and train with the minute men – the tavern is just a cover story, but it will be helpful when Patriots need to meet." He smiled, the scar over his lip stretching on his tan skin. "Sam told me about you and Miss Chase, risking your lives every day, and I wanted to personally thank you."

Percy nodded, grinning back. "We are happy to serve this new country."

Jason laughed. "And enough with the formality. I've lived here for years, and there are numerous riding trails in the woods that are enjoyable. Would you like to go for a ride?"

"Certainly," Percy answered, grinning. He strode to Blackjack's stall, where his mount greeted him with an affectionate nicker. He quickly saddled up the horse and pulled himself up, trotting out of the stable to where Jason as waiting on a silver-grey horse.

"This is Tempest," Jason answered his unasked question. "I bought him in an auction a few years ago. He had an injured leg, and so I got him for rather low, but now that the wound has healed he can travel like the wind." The horse neighed, chomping at the bit. "Are you ready?"

Percy nodded, laughing at their steeds' impatience, and when Jason offered to race him to the river, he accepted eagerly. Maybe this young Patriot and he could be friends after all.

•

"That… was not… possible," Percy panted, trying to catch his breath.

"It certainly was," Jason said smugly, patting Tempest. "Tempest is much faster than Blackjack, believe it or not."

Percy looked up at the other man, annoyed. "Jason, that was cheating. You can't flap a sheet so Blackjack spooks and bucks me off."

"Why not?" the blond asked. "We never had any rules for the race."

Percy grunted bad-temperedly. "I demand a rematch."

"Alright," Jason shrugged. "Tempest and I shall just have to win again."

"That's what _you_ think, you – " Percy froze. "What was that?"

Jason's brow furrowed. "What?"

"There. Behind those trees," Percy hissed. "Someone's there, I saw someone move."

Jason suddenly look ill-at-ease. "There's nothing there, Percy." They had dispensed with the formality of _Officer Jackson_ long before this. "I'm sure it was just a bird…"

"No, I swear, I saw a person," Percy insisted.

Jason's voice tinged a bit higher, like he was trying to hide something. "Um, maybe it was a deer, I don't know what you could have seen, there's no one there – "

Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the clearing, sinking into the tree behind Percy, directly above his head. He froze.

Soft laughter accompanied a smooth voice flowing from the woods. "So you finally met Perseus Jackson, did you, Jason?"

Jason sighed, accepting his defeat. "Piper, you know you shouldn't have done that."

A Native-American girl, around Percy's age, materialized from the trees. She had long, dark brown hair twisted in numerous choppy braids around her head, one tied with an eagle feather dyed bright red at the tip. A short skirt made of deerskin covered her middle, leaving most of her slender brown legs bare. Her chest was wrapped with some kind of fur hide, leaving a strip of brown skin between her top and skirt, and numerous necklaces made of clay beads, feathers, and leather dangled from her neck. A buckskin quiver stuffed with arrows was slung over her shoulder, a beautifully decorated bow in her hand, and quilled moccasins on her feet.

Percy gaped. "Is that… are you… I thought…"

"What, you believe the Cherokee in Virginia had moved west?" Piper laughed shortly, her feet moving silently and gracefully toward Jason. "No, Perseus Jackson. We will remain on our hunting grounds as long as possible."

Jason dismounted and embraced the Indian girl, then kissed her softly on the lips. The girl's multicolored eyes seemed to dance.

"I thought Indians had black hair and eyes," was all Percy could think to say.

Piper smiled as though talking to a young child. "My father is the chief of the Cherokee tribe, but before he was chief, when he was simply a young brave, he had had much firewater and went to a white man's town. He brought back a white woman and married her, but she died in childbirth when I was born." She said something to Jason in Cherokee, to which he nodded seriously and answered her.

"But," Jason continued in English, "how did you know who Percy was?"

Piper smiled. "I have been watching him and the other girl, Annabeth, ever since they first arrived. She is quite pretty," she seemed to add as an afterthought.

Percy reddened, the image of Annabeth in nothing but her shift and bloomers, leaping into the river, flashed in his mind. "But… first, why did you shoot at me?" he asked.

Piper rolled her kaleidoscope eyes. "Oh, please. If I had wanted to hit you, I would have. I didn't, so you are safe."

"Alright… thank you, I suppose," he conceded. "But are you two courting?"

Piper's face fell. "No, my people do not trust the white man, and Jason's father had forbidden him to see me. Now that his father is dead, though, he will be moving to Boston."

"We have to find a way to be together," Jason murmured, seeming to forget that Percy was there. "I won't leave you here, Piper."

"You know there is no way I can come with you," Piper answered sadly. "The white men do not trust the Cherokee. I cannot change myself into a white girl, into someone you can be with and not be judged by others."

"Wait – so, you want to go to Massachusetts to stay with Jason?" Percy asked, an idea blooming in his mind.

"Yes – but it is not possible," Piper said hesitantly.

Percy grinned. "I think I have a plan."

•

Annabeth groggily look out the window. It was dark out, but she had no idea what time of night. Had she really slept since teatime? Why had no one called her for supper?

She sat up, and immediately felt a surge of light-headedness overtake her. The room was spinning, and her vision blurred and shifted. Getting out of bed was torture, but she made it and shakily pulled on her robe over her nightshift.

Annabeth held onto the railing of the staircase for dear life as wave after wave of dizziness hit her like a storm. Her head was pounding, and she felt cold. So, so cold. She had to find Percy. Where was Percy? She wanted a drink. She want to lay down in the fire. Maybe that would warm her up.

She reached the bottom of the staircase and heard voice coming from the parlor. It sounded like Percy and someone else. Her foggy brain detected laughter and the scent of smoke.

"Not again!" Percy groaned, throwing his cards on the floor. He had a pipe in his mouth. "You're much too talented at cards, Jason."

"No, you're just terrible," Jason answered, casually puffing out of his own pipe.

Just then, Percy seemed to notice Annabeth standing in the doorway. "Annabeth! Are you alright? You didn't come down to dinner, so we saved you some…" his voice trailed off. Quickly, he got to his feet and crossed the room to where she stood, leaning against the door.

"I… I am so cold," Annabeth whispered. Percy put his hand on her forehead, and a look of concern flooded his green eyes.

"Annabeth, you're ill! Why didn't you tell me?" he asked irritably. Annabeth felt another wave of dizziness coming on, but this time her aching body couldn't hold up against it, and she felt her legs give out. Percy caught her, cursing and trying to soothe her simultaneously. Through a fog, she could hear him telling Jason to go get her grandparents and the doctor, could feel him gently taking her in his arms and sitting on the sofa, whispering soft words and swearing at himself for being such a blithering idiot. She smiled faintly, despite the pounding of her head.

"You're cute when you're worried," she murmured into his shirt, burying herself in the warmth of his body. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."

She saw him smile at that, gently brushing her tangled curls out of her eyes. Since it was summer, there was no fire in the grate, but Percy held her tightly, bundling her up in her robe even though her skin felt like it was on fire.

Her inside felt as cold as ice.

Suddenly her grandparents were there, fussing over her and calling the doctor. When the old physician arrive, he had Percy carry her upstairs to her room. She vaguely could hear the doctor telling Percy, in his wheezy old voice, to leave the room, and Percy protesting. When the room was empty except Annabeth and the old doctor, he quickly took off all her clothes but her thin under-shift, muttering to himself about herbs and medicine and ice.

Annabeth moaned quietly. No, not ice. She was so cold. So cold.

But ice was brought up anyway, into a bathing tub with some water. She was undressed and put into the tub, shivering and shaking violently. The doctor felt her forehead again, seeming to get even more worried. She could hear him grinding up herbs with a mortar and a pestle, making a paste of something extremely distasteful-looking. It was forced into her unwilling mouth, dribbling down her cheek into the freezing water.

After a few more hell-filled minutes – or hours, time seemed skewed and strange – she was taken out and dried off, dressed in a silk nightshift and put back into bed. In blurry vision, she could see Percy burst back into the room, despite the protests of the doctor, and taking her hand, whispering in her ear. He was shaking, though she didn't know why.

Minutes, then hours passed. The old doctor fed her more of his herbs, shaking his head and muttering. Percy stayed with her the whole night, holding her hand. She faded in and out of consciousness, colors crowding her vision, memories she hadn't thought of in years resurfacing. For a time, Percy's features morphed into her mother's, her first mother, who had died when she was a child. She felt a cool hand brush her sweaty forehead and imagined her mother was whispering from heaven. Could she join her mother? Please, mother, don't leave me. I'm so alone.

And then her mother disappeared, and Percy's face appeared. He was saying something, though what she couldn't make out. His face was wet, and a thought – _he's crying –_ prodded Annabeth's fuzzy mind. She wanted to make him feel better. Percy, please don't cry. I will go to my mother. I can see my mother soon.

It only seemed to make him cry harder, his voice breaking as he begged her, begged her something desperately. She just smiled at him, not knowing what he was saying. It was alright.

All through the night, she tossed and turned, screaming with unknown horrors that haunted her mind, then fading away and coming back and seeing her mother. Sometimes one of her grandparents would appear above her bed, their faces worried and damp with tears, and sometimes it was the blond man, Jason, that she had met yesterday, though she had no idea why he was with her – but always Percy was there, holding her hand, piling more blankets on her, helping her sit up to drink that horrible medicine, stroking her face, murmuring and comforting and just being there.

By the wee hours of the morning, Annabeth was fading. Her fever had reached its highest, her skin was burning up, and inside it was icicles, pricking and cutting her like frosty knives. She was shaking violently and crying out deliriously. Was it her mother there? And then Luke and Thalia came, and she wondered if they were real or another dream.

Suddenly Luke and Thalia's faces morphed into two different faces, Jason and another person. It was a girl, with dark tan skin and chocolate-colored hair. She smelled like smoke and dirt and fresh air, her rough hand touching Annabeth's forehead, then she was talking quickly to the others in the room. She ground up herbs – Annabeth hoped they didn't taste as badly as the doctor's had – but instead of making her eat them, the girl made a poultice and after sending the boys out, laid it on Annabeth's bare chest. The girl bathed her forehead with cool rags, but also tucked blankets around her, with stones warmed by the fire finally beginning to melt the icy cold inside Annabeth's body.

Annabeth finally began to drift to sleep, lulled by the girl's soft humming. Soon, all was black.

•

Percy had never in all his life felt so helpless.

First, he failed to even notice Annabeth was sick earlier. The doctor said it was malaria. No one knew how one contracted it – some said bad food, others said humid night air – but no one knew for sure. It had crept up on Annabeth, suddenly appearing without giving any warning. She had been fine only that morning – how could her life be in jeopardy now? He cursed himself with words too vulgar to speak aloud at his idiocy. Perhaps if he had called the doctor earlier; perhaps if they hadn't gone swimming again –

 _Perhaps_ , _perhaps_ , _perhaps_. Perhaps nothing could have been done – but what if her illness could have been prevented by him?

Now she was dying. His heart felt like it was ripping in two when she said, in her delirious, fevered state, that she was going to see her mother. She had mentioned that her birth mother had died when she was younger, but she had never really talked about it. To have her unknowingly pour out her feelings and nightmares, tossing and turning and screaming at invisible fears tormenting her restless mind – it was almost unbearable to watch.

Jason had left earlier that night to find Piper. Apparently the Cherokee had many remedies for various sicknesses that worked better than any of the white man's, and she was their last hope. The old doctor had just shook his head despairingly, unable to do anything else.

When Piper had arrived, in the very early morning, she had set immediately to work, making a poultice of herbs and heating stones in the fire to keep Annabeth warm, while bathing her forehead in a cloth wrung with ice water.

After about an hour, the sun peeked over the forest, its rays straining to touch every dark shadow the night had left. Piper quietly left the sickroom, closing the door and joining Jason and Percy sitting in the parlor silently.

"She's asleep," the Cherokee girl said softly.

Percy looked up blearily. "Is… is that good? Will she be alright?"

Piper shook her head. "Her fever will either break while she sleeps, or it won't. If it does, she will live; if it does not…" she left the last part unspoken.

Percy's shoulder's sagged in despair. He literally couldn't imagine life without Annabeth anymore. She had found a way into his world, and now she _was_ his world.

What if she didn't wake up?

Piper quietly sat next to Jason and rested her head on his shoulder. Jason looked pale from being up all night, and Percy felt a sudden rush of gratitude. He had only met the young man the day before, and if Annabeth did wake up, it would be because of Piper. She was practically a stranger, and though he knew he had promised to bring her to Boston so she could stay with Jason, she was doing this of her own free will.

"Thank you," he muttered, his throat feeling raw.

Piper smiled sadly at him. Jason nodded, too tired and grieved to do much else.

They sat like that, in silence, for another hour, before Piper wordlessly got up to check on Annabeth. Mr. and Mrs. Chase had stayed up most of the night, but Percy had insisted they go to bed a few hours before, promising to get them if anything changed. The old doctor, doing his best, was with Annabeth

He stood up as Piper came back out. "Is she…?" he asked. He didn't want to know the answer.

Piper had tears on her face, but her expression was unreadable. "Go in."

Percy tore to the bedroom and stopped. Annabeth was deathly pale, eyes closed. Her light blond curls were a tangled mess, spread across the down-filled pillow. He fought a wave of nausea at seeing her normally vibrant, energetic form like this, holding onto the doorframe for support to his suddenly weak legs.

Approaching the bed, he took in every detail of her frail body, remembered all the times they had had and the memories they had shared. Remembered the first time he had seen her, when she bumped into him on that cold, rainy day – her curls wild and grey eyes distracted and warm and so, so beautiful.

Would he see those eyes again?

He sat down on the bed, not even trying to stop his tears. They fell, the warm, salty droplets, onto his hands clasping Annabeth's cold, white ones.

He froze. She was warm and sweaty and _he could feel her heartbeat._ That beautiful music of life beating and singing and roaring through her body, announcing life had returned into the frail frame.

"Piper!" he called frantically, glancing at the door.

And suddenly the pale hand squeezed his own in a silent embrace. "Percy."

"Annabeth," he breathed. "Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth – "

She laughed weakly, and honestly Percy thought he had never heard a more beautiful sound. Sweat had beaded on her forehead, and Percy held his hand up to it. Her fever had broken, and her brow was cool.

"You're alive." Percy let out a breath he had seemingly held all night, relief flooding him like the morning sun through the window, shining on Annabeth's sweaty curls and pale eyes, red-rimmed from the long night. He laughed. "You're alive, you're alright Annabeth, I thought you were _dying_ – "

Annabeth's crooked smile filled him with warmth, her voice soft. "I couldn't just _leave_ you, idiot. We're partners, remember?"

He rested his head on her chest, feeling the melody of life beating through her frame. "Don't ever do that to me again," he murmured into her shift, unashamed of the salty droplets staining the cloth.

He could feel Annabeth's fingers tangled in his hair, and her breathy laugh seeming to set the fallen world back on its axis. "I won't," she replied, pulling him closer, her chest rising and falling in that wonderful rhythm. "I promise."

 **And that's all for today! In case anyone doesn't know, malaria is caused by mosquito bites and is often fatal. I don't claim to know everything about it, though. Google definitely helped me out with this one! :)**

 **Please review! Love ya'll!  
WM**


	9. Journey Back Home

**Hey everyone! Update, comin' through. :) I'm sorry I'm posting so irregularly, but my life is insanely crazy and hectic right now, from school to music to sports to friends and just everything. I promise to (try) to update every week! This is again a shorter, slightly fluffy filler chapter, but when they get back to Boston the real fun begins. :D**

 **Please read, review, and enjoy!**

 _-September 23_ _rd_ _, 1774-_

Annabeth recovered quickly from the fever that came close to taking her life. Within a few days, she was out of bed and eating at the table again. A week later she and Percy were taking long walks around the plantation, though she wasn't yet strong enough to go swimming. If they were in the woods, Jason and Piper would often join them, and the four grew to be close friends.

Oftentimes, though, Annabeth would catch Percy staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He would always have a strange look on his face; it was intense and almost passionate, but another emotion, as well. Admiration, maybe? She could hardly dare to think it any more than that.

He was also even more overprotective than he had been before the fever. The first time he insisted on holding her hand as she crossed a log over a small creek, she just rolled her eyes. But when he refused to allow her on her grandfather's horse to go with him, Jason and Piper on a ride, she got just a bit annoyed. He still refused to budge, and she grumpily went to her room to rest at Percy's insistence.

However, the third time, when Percy, Jason, and Piper were going to one of the fields and he told her she should go rest, Annabeth exploded.

"I'm not a baby, Percy. I got a little sick, I'm not a fragile flower or whatever delusion you're under – "

Percy's green eyes seemed to burn a little colder with anger. "Annabeth, you weren't a little sick, you almost _died._ Stop being such an idiot and take care of yourself. You don't always have to try to keep up with me or – "

"I'm not a fool," she hissed. "Not everything is a competition. This is _my_ body, and I swear if I don't know when I am well then no one does. Quit treating me like a child, just because you're a bloody soldier and maybe you think that makes you better than me, Perseus Jackson, but it doesn't. I'm not an infant, and I can take care of myself."

"Oh, just like you always can? When you push away anyone who cares about you, Annabeth?" Percy asked, his voice ice-cold, and Annabeth felt an icicle pierce her heart with his words.

"I don't push people away," she said, her voice cracking. "Don't you _dare_ say that."

"Maybe I do dare. Maybe then you'll learn to think and reason logically. I just want to protect you, stop being such a bloody idiot and _stop pushing me away."_

"Well, maybe I am," she told him fiercely. "Maybe I want to push you away. Maybe I don't give a damn about be protected, because I can _take care of myself_."

His eyes softened. "Annabeth, please – "

"No," she snapped, crossing her arms and turning her back so he couldn't see the tears welling in her eyes. "Just go. Go be with Piper and Jason, go enjoy yourself and leave me here."

She could hear him taking a step towards her. "Listen to me – "

"Just… go," she choked.

Annabeth heard him make a small sound, almost like a choked whisper, but then he turned around and slammed the door on his way out.

So began the longest fight in the history of their friendship. For a full twenty-four hours, Annabeth locked herself in her room, refusing to talk to Percy, and stayed in the barn for most of the day.

She struggled with herself the entire night, sleeping fitfully, her stomach twisting with worry and misery. Even just a day away from Percy seemed to tear her apart, though she would never admit that to him. He had already become a part of her, and ripping him away hurt so badly she wasn't sure if she could stand it.

Apparently Percy felt the same way, because at six o'clock the next morning, he was knocking on her bedroom door, his voice sounding hoarse. "Annabeth. Can… can I come in?"

She ignored how her heart felt a hundred times lighter just at the sound of hearing his voice, and the small, petty part of her wanted to let him suffer just a bit more. But she knew she would be punishing herself as well, and his voice sounded so soft and broken she knew she couldn't be away from him for any longer.

She quickly exited her bed, the coverlet twisted from her turning and tossing all night, and unlocked the door, forgetting she was only in a thin linen nightshift. Percy's eyes, red-rimmed and lavender circles underneath, looked so relieved she could have cried.

"Annabeth," he breathed, immediately embracing her. They both sighed as Annabeth's arms closed around him, like a piece of her had come back and completed the puzzle. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmured into her ear, ragged voice muffled by her frizzy curls. "I know I should have trusted you, but I just wanted you to be alright and I didn't think about how you felt – "

"Percy," she smiled, pulling back slightly and putting her finger on his lips to silence him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. I just – completely overreacted and panicked, and I know you were only doing what you thought was best."

His face softened as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Let's not argue again, please?" he whispered into her hair. "I'm not sure if I can stand being angry at you."

She laughed, unsettled at her flushed cheeks and the heat radiating from her body at his close proximity. This was just Percy. They had hugged before; his toned torso was lean but powerful, he was half a head taller than her, his muscled arms were strong and warm and comforting – she _knew_ that. So why did it feel different now?

For heaven's sake, was she _blushing?_

"Yeah, idiot," she managed, knowing Percy was blissfully unaware of her thoughts. "I never want to fight again either."

"Forgiven?" he asked as he pulled away, his sea-green eyes sparkling.

"Forgiven," she agreed.

(Of course, they fought and argued and disputed time and time again after that, because he was Percy, and she was Annabeth, and their very personalities clashed in every disagreement. But they always made up before the sun went down, because Annabeth knew, deep down, Percy was a part of her. And it hurts like hell when a piece of yourself isn't there.)

•

 _-September 27_ _th_ _, 1774-_

Their remaining days passed quickly, and soon it was time for them to return to Boston. Percy had promised that Piper could travel with them; Jason would be following them a few weeks later. Annabeth watched the two young people – so different, in looks and situations and their very lives, but loving each other so much it made up for it – and she felt a pang of envy. Would someone ever love her so much that they would leave their home to stay with her?

The morning of their departure, the mansion was chaos. They had obviously not told Annabeth's grandparents about Piper coming with them, so when Jason arrived to "help", Percy and Annabeth just shared a grin. Some of her grandparents' slaves helped pack the wagon with their bags and an insane amount of food, mostly from her grandmother who was worried they would be hungry on the way back.

As soon as the barn was empty, everyone else being up at the house, Annabeth cupped her hands together and put them to her mouth, emitting a special whistle Piper had taught her a few days before. Within moments of hearing the signal, the Cherokee girl entered the barn, her small feet clad in the same quilled moccasins making no noise on the soft dirt floor. She held a bag of deerskin, presumably with some food or clothes inside.

"Here, hide under these blankets," Annabeth told her, climbing into the wagon. The canvas cover had been pulled over it, making a sort of tent over the wagon bed.

"Thank you," Piper whispered, tears in her eyes. "Without you, I would not be able to go to Boston."

Annabeth hugged her friend. Jason only had Tempest, no wagon, so there was no way Piper would be able to travel with him even if she was allowed, let alone without people seeing her. "You would have done the same for me, Pipes," she whispered.

The Indian girl smiled gratefully, squeezing Annabeth's hand, then quickly hid under the blankets. Annabeth fixed it so Piper wouldn't be seen, just as voices came around the corner. She jumped down from the wagon, wiping her sweaty hands on her pale lavender skirt. If her grandparents saw Piper now…

"Good-bye, dear," Sarah Chase said softly, hugging her granddaughter. "'Tis wonderful you were able to visit us. Be safe in Boston."

"We will miss you," added her grandfather in his booming voice, giving her a bear hug of his own. Annabeth giggled into his wool jacket.

"I'll miss you too, Grandfather. And you, Grandmother," she said, taking both their hands. "I will be back next summer, though."

"Good, good," replied Mr. Chase. "Oh, Sarah, did you give them their dinners?"

"Oh, I forgot," Mrs. Chase answered. She handed her husband two tin pails, like the kind schoolboys packed their dinners in. "If you'll just put those in the wagon…"

Annabeth caught her breath. "Don't worry about it, I can put them in there – "

"Nonsense, darling!" Mrs. Chase exclaimed. "Your grandfather might not be as spry as he used to be, but I'm sure he can make it into the wagon, at least."

Percy chose that moment to enter the barn with Jason. His eyes widened as he saw Mr. Chase making his way towards the wagon. He glanced questioningly towards Annabeth, who sent him back a silent message: _Piper's in there._

"I'll take those, Mr. Chase!" he said quickly, covering it up with a nervous laugh. Before her grandfather could respond, Percy grabbed the pails and vaulted into the wagon, setting the pails down. Her grandparents looked cheerfully befuddled; they glanced at each other, but let Annabeth and Percy's strange actions go.

The two climbed up on the wagon seat, Percy offering Annabeth a hand. She settled herself on the already uncomfortable seat and waved rather violently at her grandparents and Jason as Percy took the reins and the horses pulled the wagon from the barn.

"Good-bye, grandfather and grandmother! Farewell, Jason!" she called.

"Farewell," answered Jason, his voice sounding heavy. It would only be about a week until Jason followed them to Boston, but Annabeth guessed since he spent almost every day with Piper normally, it would be hard on them both to not see each other for more than a week.

"And we're gone," Percy announced as they got onto the main dirt road, the sun beating down on Annabeth's shoulders. He glanced at her. "Didn't your grandmother say to wear your hat?"

"Yes," she huffed, pulling the large straw brim over her curls. "Piper, you can come out now."

Piper emerged from the blankets in the back of the wagon, the boxy canvas cover shading her from unfriendly eyes. "I brought some moccasins to work on, so I will stay back here," the brunette told Annabeth.

She nodded. "That's probably wise, at least until we get to a less busy part of the road." As if to prove her point, a carriage passed them, the rumbling wheels stirring up dust. Annabeth coughed, pulling out a small handkerchief to cover her nose and mouth.

She glanced at Percy. Already sweat had beaded on his brow, his skin much darker than it had been when they traveled down from Boston. She glanced down at her own arm. A few freckles dotted the tan skin, and she grimaced. Her step-mother would not be pleased – pale skin was the most fashionable, and freckles were frowned upon.

Annabeth felt a rivulet of sweat begin to trickle down her neck, and she pulled her long, tangled curls into a braid. The honey-colored strands had been in the sun so much that white-blond highlights ran through the tousled ringlets.

Within a few hours, they stopped by a small creek to give the horses a break and eat their dinners. Annabeth was grateful for the extra food, since Piper had only brought a bit of jerky for herself. They spread out a feast of cornbread, cold ham, thick slices of bread, and a canister of cool, creamy milk.

"Slow down," Annabeth scolded Percy, who was inhaling his meal. "We won't reach Boston until at least tomorrow, and this food must last until then."

"I apologize," Percy answered sarcastically, adding an eye-roll. Annabeth knew he had picked it up from her.

"Idiot," she muttered, running her hand through his black hair, which had grown hot to the touch from the sun. Piper sent her a little grin, like she knew something Annabeth didn't. When they were on the road again and Percy tugged one of the curls lose from her braid, Piper sent the same gaze towards her friend.

As they traveled back home, Annabeth may have purposely mussed up her best friend's hair, or let her eyes linger on the shifting muscles beneath his thin linen shirt soaked with sweat. And _maybe_ she didn't mind when Piper sent her that knowing look again or when she caught Percy staring at her with that silly grin of his.

(In fact, her own smile might have just grown a little wider.)

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review! :)**

 **WM**


	10. The Oath

_-October 12_ _th_ _, 1774-_

"You want us to _what?"_ Percy repeated, rather stunned.

Paul Revere looked impatient. "I _said_ , there's a British officer who wants out. He's deserting, and he needs our help. This is a great responsibility – a man's life is at stake, and none of our other spies have been as able or willing to help as you two have been. Also, as you will see, you two have the best excuse as to getting him out."

"Yes, but – " Percy began to protest.

Annabeth shoved her elbow into his side, effectively shutting him up as pain shot of his ribcage. "We would be honored to help the colonies in this way, sir," she told him.

Revere nodded, looking pleased. "Thank you, Miss Chase, Perseus. I will send you the necessary instructions in a few days, but as soon as you read them, you must burn them. Is that understood?"

They both nodded, Percy grimacing, and headed out the door of the print shop.

"Annabeth, what the hell are you thinking?" he exploded as they stepped into the cool breeze. Boston had entered autumn in a rush of colored leaves and cooler temperatures, and he shivered as the wind cut through his coat. "Helping a deserter could get both of us killed if we get found out!"

Annabeth walked quicker, her peach-colored lips pressing into a firm line. Percy refused to think how pretty she was when she was angry. "We knew this work could potentially have drastic consequences when we first agreed to it, Percy. Why would I change my mind now that we're simply being given more dangerous work?"

"Yes, but – " Percy started, frustrated, then stopped. "Alright, so say we take on the job -"

"I already agreed for us," Annabeth cut in, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth.

Percy ignored her comment. "Say we take the job – what did he mean, we'll have an advantage, or whatever he said? I don't understand."

Annabeth shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out, eh?"

•

 _-October 15_ _th_ _, 1774-_

"Officer _Valdez?_ " Percy gaped.

"That's me," Officer Valdez, a short, slender, yet muscular young man confirmed.

"But – you live at the Chases too," Percy stuttered.

Valdez smirked. "Does that somehow make me ineligible to desert? I mean, you're a spy, something I never would have expected, but – "

"No, no, I mean I understand, it's just – " Percy fumbled for words. "Why?"

Valdez's dancing brown eyes suddenly looked grim. "Let's just say I'm tired of serving a king who does nothing but create unnecessary rules and sits upon his golden pillows eating pastries while his people starve. The colonies will grow, and I believe one day we could rule the world."

Percy nodded, understanding Valdez's feelings. "I know we haven't really talked much, but I'm Perseus. You can call me Percy."

That mischievous grin popped back onto the other man's elfish face. "Leonardo, but you can call me Leo."

"Well, Leo, we'd better find Annabeth. She's the one who will make this happen without any of us getting killed," Percy told the other officer, chuckling.

The edges of Leo's mouth turned up wryly. "Don't want that to happen, do we now?"

Percy thought of the firing squad in the Boston Commons, where deserters and spies were shot on a weekly basis. "No," he murmured. "Not at all."

•

 _-October 19_ _th_ _, 1774-_

"Officer Jackson, Officer Valdez, will you be joining us for supper tonight?" Mrs. Chase asked as the two young men walked in. The nights were coming earlier already, and it was quite dark out, though it was only six o'clock.

"Nah, we'll just headin' upstairs," Percy slurred. Tonight was the night to sneak Leo out of the city, and Annabeth had devised a complicated, but almost foolproof plan.

 _Almost_ being the key word.

"Yeah," Leo hiccupped, holding onto the doorway for support. "See you later, love." He kissed a scandalized Mrs. Chase on the cheek before swaggering upstairs.

The plan depended on Mrs. Chase believing they were severely drunk and asleep, so this was going well already.

As soon as they got to Leo's room, the drunk façade disappeared immediately. Percy quickly threw Leo the bag of farmer's clothes Annabeth had acquired a few days before. The other young man hastily changed, and Percy took the discarded uniform and put it back inside the bag. He knew it could come in handy for other members of the Observers for future spying projects.

"Ready?" he whispered, glancing at the clock. It should be one more minute, and then…

A rock clattered against the windowpane, and Percy locked eyes with Leo grimly. It was time.

Percy blew out their lantern and climbed onto the roof outside the window. They climbed down quickly, Percy's boots rapping against the cobblestones and Leo's softer farm boots making less noise.

Annabeth was standing on the ground, her blond hair tied back under a cloak with a hood that hid her eyes. She was wearing breeches and an too-big overcoat, leather boots laced up to her knees. "Now, onto the tavern," she whispered, turning. Leo and Percy nodded, and the three disappeared into the night.

•

They finally reached the tavern on the outskirts of town, close to the Neck. It was owned by a Loyalist who went by the name of Atlas, but his daughter mainly ran it for her constantly-drunk father.

Percy caught his breath as Annabeth knocked softly on the back door three times. He had known the girl, Calypso, when he first came to the colonies, and though he had tried to rescue her from her father's alcohol tainted, almost slave-like imprisonment of his daughter, it hadn't ended well.

The door was opened by a stunning young woman. She had waist-length caramel hair, woven into a long braid. Her deep brown, almond shaped eyes were luminous in the moonlight, and she wore a creamy-white dress under a stained apron.

Percy gulped. Annabeth elbowed him serenely.

"I assume this is Officer Valdez?" the girl asked, her silky voice quiet. She wiped her hands on her apron, a waft of cinnamon fragrance coasting along Percy's senses as she moved.

"Uh… yes, my lady," Leo choked, bowing. "Leo Valdez. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Calypso answered, her voice sounding doubtful. "Come in, all three of you. My father is asleep, and hopefully will not be awake for a while."

They quietly filed into the dark building, Calypso leading the way with a candle. They passed a drunken, overweight man, snoring with a bottle in his hand. He jerked in his sleep, and Percy noticed Calypso wincing slightly. He felt a sinking feeling in his heart – apparently the conditions Calypso lived in hadn't gotten any better since his previous attempt to free her.

The girl led them around a corner and through a small door in the back lean-to. Percy followed her, beckoning Leo and Annabeth to come as well. They crossed a muddy courtyard before entering a dark stable.

"Here," Calypso said, setting down the candle and closing the doors. As she turned, her braid moved from her shoulder, revealing a dark bruise on her milky collarbone.

Leo moved towards her, all traces of star-struck boy gone. The young man stood in front of her with fire in his eyes. "Who… who did this to you?"

Calypso whipped around, hiding the bruise with her hair once again. "It doesn't matter," she whispered, pressing her lips together.

Leo's face hardened in the flickering light, and Percy suddenly realized the joking soldier he had met before had more than one side to him. "I – I know I don't even know you," he said, his voice husky, "but you are risking your life for me. Come away with me – we can go somewhere where you won't have to endure this abuse any longer."

Calypso looked away, and Percy glanced at Annabeth, who had yet to say a word. The dark hood obscured most of her face, but he could see her lips were pressed together in a firm white line. "Officer Jackson tried to help me before. It didn't work."

Leo spun around, his dark eyes on fire. "You _knew?"_ he hissed. "You knew about this and stopped trying to help?"

Percy took a step back. "I – I tried to help, and it just got her hurt worse. Right after I came over from England. And then training started and I began working with the Observers – look, I'm not excusing myself. I should have come back, it was just – "

Calypso reached out and touched his arm, her luminous eyes soft. "'Twas not your fault, Perseus." She looked like she was going to say more, but a coarse shout came from the house across the courtyard. Her face flooding with alarm, Calypso turned to Leo. "You have to go."

"I'm not leaving without you," Leo answered stubbornly.

"You must," she insisted, quickly bringing an already-saddled horse from the stall nearest to them. The mare whickered softly, and another shout came, getting closer. She turned to Percy and Annabeth. "You also. If anyone sees you here – "

Leo climbed up and held out his hand to Calypso. "You can come with me," he said, his voice choked. "You don't have to live like this."

She pressed her lips together in a small smile, the tears in her eyes sparkling in the light. "I thank you, Leo Valdez. But I cannot." The four could hear someone making their way across the large courtyard. "Now go. There's a door in the back."

Leo dug his heels into the horse, and Percy watched silently as he trotted to the back of the stable. The three of them saw him begin moving faster, and a whispered promise before galloping quietly into the woods: "I'm coming back for you, Calypso. I swear it on the River Styx."

 **Hey everyone! I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, one, for not updating in like almost two months, and then the update you have is short and crappy and ugh. I'm sorry. But I promise during summer you will have so many chapters you won't know what to do. School is insanely busy and it's pretty hard to find time to write, but it won't always be this way! :)**

 **Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! :)  
WM**


	11. The Governor's Dance

**Hey guys! I am SO sorry for the unexpected hiatus this story was on. School was super tough this year, and then when I finally got to summer break I was too drained to write anything more. However, my amazing peeps Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Mia (herecomesthepun) gave me new inspiration for this story, so you can thank them by reading their fantastic Percabeth stories as well! I hopefully will be updating at least once a week from now on. Thank you so much for sticking with me!**

 **And now, onto the story! :)**

 _December 14_ _th_ _, 1774_

"What the _hell –"_ Annabeth muttered, staring down at the envelope in her hands.

"Language, Annabeth," Mrs. Chase reproved crossly, coming to look over her step-daughter's shoulder. "What have you there?"

"It's an invitation to the governor's Christmas ball," Annabeth replied wonderingly.

Mrs. Chase looked pleased. "'Tis good that it finally came. Your father managed to procure it, because he is in good standings with the governor."

Annabeth knew it was probably Major Pitcairn who truly made sure she had gotten the invitation, but she refrained from saying so. It would be a wonderful opportunity to gather some more intelligence for the Observers – the past few months had been quiet, for the most part.

"I'm going to go see if Percy received one, too," she said, tugging on her boots.

"Make sure to take your cloak!" Mrs. Chase hastily reminded her. Annabeth pulled her warm cloak around her slender shoulders and hurtled out the door, ignoring her stepmother's entreaties to be ladylike.

Outside the crisp, cold air hit her lungs suddenly. She gasped, enjoying the feeling of fresh, icy wind around her after being cooped up indoors all day. She glanced up; the sky was a dull grey. Snow would soon be following.

Sure enough, as she continued running down the busy street, tiny flakes began to drift in the chilly breeze, tangling in her eyelashes and melting on her flushed cheeks. She laughed, spinning around a few times in the already-increasing storm before remembering her purpose.

A few minutes more of brisk walking and she reached the pub where many of the idle British soldiers spent their time. Percy often visited for a mug of good ale, trying to catch any bit of gossip he could.

She burst in through the door, the bell jangling. The warmth of a roaring fire warmed her face, and the smell of sweaty men surrounded her, quite a change from the fresh air outside. She wrinkled her nose, searching quickly around the room for Percy.

A head of tousled black hair caught her eye, sitting in a table in the corner. She darted nearer, ignoring the crude whistling of tipsy soldiers. As long as Percy was there to protect her, she would be fine.

"Percy!" she called, throwing back her hood and waving the envelope in the air. Her best friend turned at the sound of her voice, face brightening. Annabeth ignored the fluttering in her heart that his warm smile brought and scurried to him, dodging tables and trays of ale.

She hugged him quickly in greeting, ignoring the stares. It wasn't the most proper thing to do, hug a young man in plain sight, but in her excitement Annabeth didn't give a damn. She breathed in the scent of warm ale, smoke, and sweat that his uniform carried before pulling away hastily.

"What brings you're here, 'beth?" he asked, a bright smile in place.

She laughed. "Look! An invitation to Governor Tryon's Christmas ball has just arrived."

His grin widened. "Yes, I heard that you would be receiving one. I wanted to keep it a surprise, though." He pulled a matching envelope from a pocket inside his bright-red jacket. "Are you excited?"

"Excited? I could dance a jig!" Annabeth exclaimed, throwing her arms around him again. "I've never been to a ball. What's it like?"

Percy invited her to sit down opposite of him, and she sat quickly. "Well, I've only been to a few back in England, but from what I remember…" he paused, as though searching his memory. "There's dancing, obviously, and a huge table piled with food. Oh, and there's always musicians playing festive waltzes in the corner. We all laugh and talk and such, and the guests are introduced as they enter."

"It sounds amazing," Annabeth sighed. She normally wasn't hugely interested in events like this, but her interest was piqued this time.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Percy would be coming as well. The idea.

"'Tis quite enjoyable," Percy admitted, green eyes sparkling. Annabeth didn't notice how his gaze rested upon her a second longer than normal.

"Well, I must be getting back," she said reluctantly, standing from her chair. "I just wanted to see if you had one too. I am very glad you do."

"Yes, I am as well," Percy told her, pushing his chair back with a scraping noise to stand beside her. He offered her his arm. "May I see you out?"

They walked out together, and the other soldiers had the decency to not whistle in the face of Percy's glare. Annabeth wondered if he was just being a bit overprotective – in the past few months she had certainly grown used to the soldiers' lust-filled glances and crude jokes – or maybe it was something more.

The bell dinged behind them as they stepped into the street. Bitterly cold air swirled around them, and Annabeth was surprised at the amount of snow that had accumulated in such a short time.

Percy glanced up at the sky, brow furrowing. "The storm's getting worse," he noted. "Should I get Blackjack and we can ride home together?"

"No, I'll be fine," Annabeth reassured him. In a moment of impetuousness, she raised herself on tiptoes and kissed his cheek quickly. "Don't worry about me. I'll see you at supper tonight?"

Percy's cheeks were as red as his coat, but he managed to stutter out, "Why, yes. Uh, yes, I shall be there." He turned back into the tavern, smiling softly. "Farewell, Annabeth."

"Goodbye, Percy," Annabeth said, fondly watching him as he disappeared back into the tavern. After he was gone, she began walking briskly back down the street, which was quickly becoming deserted in the snow.

•

 _December 16_ _th_ _, 1774_

"The governor's ball is on December 27th, Mother," Annabeth protested, falling gracelessly into a stuffed horsehair chair in the parlor. The roaring fire crackled next to her, sending waves of heat around the room. "I _must_ have a new dress!"

"You know funds are low, dear," Mrs. Chase said stubbornly. "Material costs money, and in this troubled time, money is scarce to be found."

Annabeth knew her stepmother somehow had found the funds to make _herself_ a new dress for the holiday season, but she decided not to point that out. Instead, she pulled on her cloak and stormed outside, only to crash into Percy taking the stairs two at a time. She slipped and lost her balance, nearly falling down the ice-slicked stairs, but Percy caught her, arms moving to her waist.

"Alright there, 'beth?" he asked, raising and eyebrow. "You weren't paying attention at all. Is something bothering you?"

Annabeth sighed. The problem of new dresses suddenly seemed silly and immature in the face of the growing unrest in Boston. Redcoats were idle, and with idleness came trouble. People were beginning to protest more at the soldiers taking over their houses during the holiday season.

"Nothing," she lied, biting her lip.

Percy looked at her knowingly. "Something's wrong," he noted. "You've been chewing on your lip again, and you just came storming out of the house the way you do when you're upset."

Annabeth huffed. "'Tis nothing, Percy. Seriously. I'm just – tired. That's all."

"Is this about the governor's ball?" he asked, raising a thick black eyebrow.

Annabeth sighed again. "Yes. I just – I wanted a new dress. And funds apparently are low – I know they are – but my stepmother got herself material for a new one, and I thought – well –" Annabeth paused. "I know, I'm being childish about it – but this is my first ball, you know? And I wanted it to be – well, extra special."

Percy took her hand, gesturing inside. She followed him reluctantly. They pulled off their cloaks and boots, and Percy led her upstairs to his room.

"Why are we up here?" Annabeth asked, sitting down on his bed.

Percy rummaged through one of his trunks, back turned to her. "I was going to wait until Christmas to give you your present," he admitted, pulling something out of the trunk, "but I think now would be appropriate." He turned to her, and Annabeth gasped.

In his hands was a large amount of thick, dark blue satin. Annabeth covered her mouth with her hands in shock. "I hope it's enough," Percy said shyly. "I got it in Williamsburg – I saw the color and just immediately thought of you."

"It's – it's – _Percy!_ " Annabeth squealed, throwing her arms around him. He dropped the fabric, arms tightening around her and burying his head in her curls. "Percy, it's – it's _perfect,_ " she told him as they pulled away. "I could not ask for a gift more timely or beautiful." She stooped to the floor and picked it up, unfolding it. The rich blue satin was warm and soft to the touch, shimmering as she moved it. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Really, it is I that should be thanking you," Percy said earnestly, sitting down next to her on his bed. "All this year, you have become such an amazing friend to me. I came to the colonies a frightened boy. I feel like with your guidance, I have grown into a man – hopefully a good one."

"You have, Percy," Annabeth said, hugging the fabric closer to her bosom and squeezing Percy's hand, a lump growing in her throat. "You have."

•

 _December 27_ _th_ _, 1774_

Annabeth turned slowly in the full-length mirror, looking in wonder at her reflection. With her stepmother's help, the dress had been completed in time for the ball.

A wide neck showed off more cleavage than she would have liked, but the milliner assured them it was the height of fashion back in London; around her neck a pearl necklace hung, almost touching the delicate lace surrounding her bosom. The sleeves went to her elbows, and then creamy lace flowed in gentle waves around her forearms. A tight corset pulled her waist smaller than she had ever seen it, though it was a bit hard to breathe. The skirt flared around her now-tiny midsection, the rich velvet cascading to touch the ground. Matching dancing slippers adorned her feet, set with lace and pearls.

Her stepmother had done her hair, as well. Instead of her normal frizzy, unruly curls, shiny ringlets fell to her waist. The top curls were pinned in a fancy updo, with bouncy ringlets framing her face. A string of pearls was the finishing touch, winding themselves around the blonde curls and sparkling in the light of the lamp.

Mrs. Chase stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "Annabeth, you look beautiful," she said. Annabeth, for once, felt no animosity towards her stepmother and, on a whim, embraced her.

"Thank you, mother. For everything," she whispered into her ear.

Mrs. Chase wiped her eyes as she pulled away. "Percy's waiting downstairs," she said shakily. "Are you read to show him?"

Annabeth pressed her lips together in nervousness. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said.

As she descended the stairs, she saw Percy pacing nervously in the hall and she almost chuckled. The velvet swished as she moved, mimicking the way her curls swayed softly around her face.

Percy turned around as she descended the final steps. Annabeth saw his face transform, mouth falling open at her appearance. Her cheeks flushed, and she reach up to touch them hesitantly.

"Do – do I look alright?" she asked him uncertainly.

Percy touched her cheek, mouth still slightly open. "You look – _amazing_ , Annabeth," he said softly, pupils blown, though Annabeth didn't know why. He kissed her hand gently, and she felt her heart flutter.

It had been doing that a lot when her best friend was around.

She got a good look at him while he bowed. His officer's uniform had been cleaned and pressed meticulously, the stains purged and white linen handkerchief tucked into the throat. His tan breaches also were perfectly washed, and knee-high black boots shone in the soft light of the lantern. Mrs. Chase must have cut his hair for him; it was swept to the side and combed neatly. For once, Annabeth could see his eyes clearly, without a fringe of shaggy black hair covering them.

She caught her breath, gaze sweeping over his broad shoulders in the coat. What was _happening_ to her?

Percy offered her his arm, still in awe. "The carriage is waiting," he said softly.

She offered him a crooked smile. "Then let us be off."

They walked out together arm-in-arm. A hired coachman waited with the horses, and Percy helped Annabeth into the carriage before getting in himself. Snow swirled around them as he shut the door and pulled the lap-coat over Annabeth's swaying hoopskirt.

"So." Annabeth broke the nervous silence. "I am extremely hungry."

The tension broke in an instant. Percy guffawed, his handsome face contorting into laughter. "Leave it to you to say that as we travel to the governor's palace," he said.

"I just cannot wait for the food!" Annabeth protested. "You said there are mountains of biscuits, and punch, and cakes, and – "

" _Yes,_ Annabeth, there are many delicacies at the ball," Percy assured her. "In fact, I believe they even have hot chocolate – a new thing in London. You will enjoy it immensely, I assure you."

Annabeth smiled mischievously. "I'll take your word for it."

The carriage bumped along in comfortable silence. Annabeth scooted closer to Percy, and his arm went around her almost unconsciously, warding away the winter chill. Within a few moments, they had arrived at the palace.

The coachman hopped down and opened the door for them. Percy again helped Annabeth out of the carriage; she held her skirt carefully, high above the mud and slush.

Percy escorted her up the wide opening staircase into the mansion. Annabeth felt a tingle of nerves as they grew closer to the door.

It opened; they went through. She clenched Percy's hand tighter.

The first thing that hit her were the sounds. A myriad of people chattered gaily, tinkling laughter floating up to where Percy and Annabeth entered.

The governor himself and his wife move to greet them at the doorway as maids took their cloaks.

"Lady Chase," the governor said, bowing deeply and kissing her hand. "Officer Jackson." He nodded to Percy.

After greeting their hosts, the two walked down the quiet, dim hall, growing closer to the lights and sounds. "I'm a bit nervous," Annabeth admitted.

"Of what?" Percy murmured.

Annabeth flushed. "I don't really know," she answered. "I just – am."

Percy glanced at her, muted awe in his gaze. "You'll be fine," he promised. The pair stepped over the threshold into the ballroom.

Annabeth blinked.

The entire room was awash in light. Lamps hung in gilded stands on the walls, shedding light over the dance floor. People stood in clustered groups, the women in all colors of gorgeous gowns, and the men in their finest suits. Officers in their signature bright-red coats dotted the floor.

A huge table loaded with food stood in the corner. Fruitcakes, cream cakes, and all other manner of cakes stood in symmetry around a flowered centerpiece; where they had gotten the flowers in the middle of December Annabeth had no idea. Large platters piled high with sugared biscuits were placed around the cakes, and platters of fruit made an appearance next to them.

In the corner opposite to the food table were four musicians, playing a bright waltz. A few couples were dancing, but Percy had told her the real dances wouldn't begin until later.

Annabeth scanned the room again. Pink taffeta, yellow satin, and green silk gowns were all around her, but she privately thought hers was the loveliest of all. Though it might not have been simply the dress, but rather the giver of the dress that was causing her opinions to be biased.

She glanced to her right where Percy had been, and saw with a start that he wasn't there anymore. She glanced around to find him making a beeline to the refreshment table. He glanced back and waved for her to follow. She chuckled and did so, though at a slower pace.

"These biscuits are _amazing,_ " Percy told her, his mouth full. Annabeth laughed and took one daintily off the platter.

The two chatted about everyday things for a while before Annabeth suddenly leaned closer and whispered, "There's the governor. He's talking to Major Pitcairn – I wonder why?"

"Should I move closer?" Percy whispered back.

Annabeth held up her hand absentmindedly. "No, I shall. Stay here, alright?" She smiled reassuringly at him before quickly moving around chatting couples, trying to get closer to the general and the governor.

"–the rebels have been storing up gunpowder," she heard Governor Tryon say in a low voice. "If they manage to get ahold of guns, too, then they could become more than a small problem."

"I know, sir," Major Pitcairn agreed. "Governor Dunmore of Williamsburg recently told me the rebels are storing up gunpowder there as well, and in larger supply. If, perhaps, _our_ soldiers could get their hands on it…"

"That would be both beneficial to our cause and a loss to theirs," the governor mused. He opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment, Major Pitcairn caught sight of Annabeth.

"Good evening, Miss Chase," he said, nodding in greeting. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Annabeth quickly fell into her role of Loyalist spy. "I am, sir. Thank you kindly for having us, Governor," she added with a curtsy.

"Miss Chase here is one of our most valuable spies," Major Pitcairn informed the governor in a lowered tone. "She had brought us valuable information we otherwise never could have obtained.

The governor bowed deeply. "Your king thanks you for your bravery, and your loyalty, Miss Chase," he said. "The entire nation of England, and these pesky young colonies, are being helped by your obedience."

Annabeth held back a smirk and curtseyed politely again. "It is my pleasure to serve our King, sir."

Governor Tryon smiled. "'Tis refreshing to see a young person so willing to help her country. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go find my wife. The dancing will begin soon." He nodded to the Major and Annabeth and left.

Annabeth hurried back over to Percy. "Did you get any information?" he asked quietly as he snuck another biscuit.

Annabeth slapped his hand teasingly. "Just how many of those have you _had?_ " she inquired. In a murmur, she answered, "A bit. Tell you later."

Percy nodded in understanding and shrugged, raising his voice a notch. "Only… I don't quite remember. Maybe seven?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes fondly. "You're going to be sick! Besides, the governor said we are about to start dancing."

Percy's cheeks flushed slightly. "I – uh, well. My mother never had enough money to send me to dancing lessons with the other young men back in England. So – I most definitely am not the best dancer."

Annabeth could _feel_ her hear constrict. "Don't worry," she told him, taking his hand as they strode to the dance floor. "I'm with you. You'll be fine."

"What are you, the best dancer in the colonies?" Percy asked teasingly as they lined up with all the other couples. There were probably at least a few dozen pairs, maybe more. It was surely the largest party Annabeth had ever been to.

She shrugged, sparkle in her eye. "My mother made me endure etiquette lessons with one of her dear friends once we moved to the colonies. It was positively _awful,_ but I did learn how to dance."

Percy chuckled, obviously less nervous. "I can hardly picture the Annabeth who climbs apple trees to the very highest branches and jumps off fallen logs into the river, at _dancing_ lessons."

Annabeth made a face. "'Tis true. It took threats from my stepmother and bribery from my father to make me attend. The other young ladies were stuffy and rude." She paused, remembering. "I feel like…" she leaned closer to his ear. "I feel like that was when I first began having doubts about being loyal to England. Of course, I didn't understand any of the politics back then, but I was sure that if the other girls were proper young ladies, I certainly did not want to be one!"

Percy laughed in agreement, just as the musicians began to play a smooth waltz. The ladies curtseyed to the partners and the men bowed, and just like that, the dancing began.

"Left," Annabeth hissed instructions as they danced. "No, your _other_ left. Not your foot, your _hand._ Other direction – now spin me – " Percy spun her gracefully, and she breathed a sigh of relief, until a sharp stab of pain radiated from her slippered foot. She let out a small squeal of surprise and pain. The couples around them sent curious glances their way, but she ignored them.

"You stepped on my foot, you donkey," she hissed at him with a smile plastered on her face.

Percy turned bright red as he side stepped and took her hand again daintily. "I a-apologize," he stuttered. "I mean, I meant – "

Annabeth had to laugh. "'Tis fine. I'm sure you will get more adept at this – eventually," she added with a sigh as Percy nearly went sprawling.

She was right, though. Within a few dances, Percy's feet became much lighter, and the fourth piece the musicians played was something familiar to him. They were the most elegant couple in the room, Annabeth thought with just a hint of pride.

"So, did you find out any information?" Percy asked in a low tone.

She lowered her voice as well. "Governor Dunmore, the governor of Williamsburg, believes the Patriots storing gunpowder could become a threat. Major Pitcairn suggested the redcoats steal it, which would be a blow to our side."

"But surely they don't expect a war?" Percy asked, brow burrowing.

Annabeth sighed. "I honestly – don't know. At this point everyone in the colonies is wound so tense, I'm surprised no major blood has been shed yet."

"Are you afraid?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, twirling gracefully around Percy's raised hand. "I am afraid. Afraid of how this could change the colonies, how this could change England – afraid of how this could change people I love."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "You think it would affect us as well?" he asked.

Honestly, he was so dense. "Percy, you're a British soldier," she said out loud, and murmured, "and a Patriot spy. My father is a Loyalist doctor. Both of you would probably be going to war, if there was one. You could be injured, maybe even killed, and I –" she took a deep breath, choking away the lump in her throat. "I don't know how I would bear it. You on one side, other friends on the opposite."

Percy nodded grimly. "I understand what you mean." He pursed his lips. "Hopefully it won't come to that."

She nodded back, pushing her fears to the back of her head. This was a party, a celebration of Christmas. Most likely, England and the colonies would work out their differences without bloodshed.

At least, she hoped.

Dancing, she found out, was also good because one could steal stealthy glances at one's partner. She found herself staring at the way the bright red coat highlighted his broad shoulders, or how his hair just brushed the lacy collar, and how the knee-high boots he had paired with his breeches made him seem even _taller,_ if that was possible.

She blushed at her thoughts. How many times had she told herself that Perseus Jackson was her _best friend?_ She wasn't willing to mess that up by trying to court him, especially if he wasn't interested in her the same way she was.

And, truth be told, Annabeth didn't _want_ her feelings for Percy to grow. In all honesty, the double-spy routine would eventually get one or both of them killed. If it was Percy, well – she couldn't even bear the thought.

For now, they were friends. That was all they needed to be.

The dance finished with a final spin, and outside Annabeth could hear the wind calling ominously. They were probably due for another snowstorm tonight.

"Shall we obtain some more biscuits?" she asked Percy with a grin. The other guests began mingling, taking a break from dancing for a little while.

"Do you even have to ask?" he questioned seriously, and Annabeth handed him some apricot preserves and a biscuit. They ate, chatting about nothing, leaving Annabeth much too much time with her thoughts.

"Oh look, the servants are setting out the hot chocolate," Percy pointed out. "I heard it originally came from Spain, but many people back in London drink it as well."

"What does it taste like?" Annabeth questioned as they moved closer.

Percy considered. "It's creamy, but not too creamy. A bit frothy; very sweet, extremely rich. Sometimes people might add spices, like cinnamon."

Annabeth shrugged. "Sounds good." She and Percy soon both had cups of the steamy liquid. At her first taste, she moaned quietly.

Percy laughed next to her. "That good?"

"That good," she confirmed. She drained the rest of her cup. "Oh look, what are they setting out now?"

Percy glanced to where she nodded, and faltered. "Uh, I don't think – I mean, this might not be the best –"

"Percy," ordered Annabeth bossily. "Tell me what it is."

He sighed, a small grin creeping onto his face. "Champagne, 'beth."

"Oh! Can I try some? Father never let me have it at any of the other parties he made me go to," Annabeth exclaimed.

Percy rolled his eyes. "'Tis a good thing we have a carriage coming for us," he joked dryly, but got up from his seat.

After they obtained crystal glasses of the liquid, Annabeth bumped her cup to his playfully. "To friendship?" she suggested.

She saw Percy swallow. "To friendship," he repeated, and the cups clinked.

•

"What time is it?" Annabeth asked sleepily.

Percy checked his watch. "Almost three o'clock in the morning," he responded. Annabeth yawned as she pulled on her thick cloak.

"That was a lovely, lovely party," she said foggily. "I wish it would never end."

She heard Percy laugh quietly. "I already know you had far too much champagne, but are you tired, Annabeth?"

She groaned. "Yes, very much. How are you not?"

He chuckled. "Well, you remember I did opt out dancing a few times. I also didn't drink a dozen glasses of champagne."

Annabeth was loudly indignant. "I didn't drink a _dozen,_ " she told him, and her words ran together just a bit. "I only had – perhaps – six?"

Percy rolled his eyes dryly. "As if that should reassure me."

She yawned again as Percy tugged his woolen coat on over his uniform. "You have nice shoulders," she told him suddenly. "I mean I like your shoulders a lot. It's not ladylike to look at men's shoulders, but I'm not a very good lady."

She wondered why Percy was wheezing with laughter. "I could never have guessed you were not a proper lady, Annabeth," he said wryly. "Or," and his eyes twinkled, "that you enjoy my shoulders so much."

She made a face at him that her stepmother would most definitely not approve of. By then most of the other guests had left; only a few were still inside. "Ready to face the storm?" he asked.

"Our carriage should be here," she told him, bossy even when sleep deprived.

It was not. The two stood in the fresh powder shivering and waiting for their carriage, but it did not come.

"Perhaps the snow was too deep," Annabeth said logically.

She heard Percy sigh next to her, and it was nice. She leaned against him, her exhausted frame taking advantage of his broad shoulders. The snow was falling much more gently now compared to the earlier storm, but if not for the warm lamplight flickering from the windows of houses down the deserted, snowy street, they would never have found their way.

"Should we walk?" Percy suggested. "Your home isn't far from here; surely less than a mile. The snow isn't too deep if we walk in the tracks of the carriages from earlier."

He was right; only a few inches of powder covered the tracks from the other guests. It would be no trouble at all to walk home.

At least, Annabeth didn't think it would be.

Only a few dozen meters, it felt like her legs were too tired to stand, let alone trudge through the snow. Percy hadn't seemed to notice she had dropped behind, and she trudged slower and slower until her legs simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Annabeth?" she heard him call in a haze of sleep.

"I'm… too… tired," she tried to explain.

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Well, we can't have you falling asleep on the streets, now can we?" He knelt down next to her. "Climb on my back. I shall carry you home."

That caused her to wake up a bit more. "Oh, Percy, you don't have to –" she protested sleepily, trying to scramble to her feet. The movement made her head swim a bit, and she closed her eyes.

"Whoa there," Percy reassured her. "Just climb on my back. You're in no state to be going home like this."

She still hesitated, even in her foggy state, and Percy tried to soothe her. "'Tis a bit improper, but 'tis also three in the morning. No one will see."

Annabeth was still a bit hesitant, but she loved Percy. If Percy thought it was alright, it was alright.

She climbed on his back and he stood up, wobbling a bit to keep his balance.

"I like your hair, too," she told him. "You have snow all over it."

She felt his shoulders shake with laughter as they began to walk down the street. It was a bit awkward; Percy's hands were squishing her legs under her many layers of petticoats and skirts, and her cloak was stick awkwardly under his arm, but it somehow felt perfect.

Also, his left shoulder was an amazing pillow.

"I like your hair as well, 'beth," he told her. "I love how it gets lighter in the summer, and the way you wear it down all the time just because your mother tells you to tie it back. I love the freckles on your nose when you've been in the sun, and I love the way you look when you're not worried about anything and you're just – happy." He pauses, for a moment, breathing heavily from carrying her.

Annabeth takes a moment to process. She was no expert, but even her fuzzy mind could figure out that the way Percy was talking sounded a bit more than simply best friends. It sounded almost as if –

No. Percy didn't care about her in that way. _She_ cared about him like that, but it would pass.

"I'm in love with you, Annabeth," he said suddenly, and even Annabeth's incoherent brain can figure out _that_ with no help.

Maybe her previous assumptions were off a tad.

"Why?" she asked him. Because telling him she loved him back would be – would be too final. She couldn't say it, not yet. Not when she could lose him any day.

Perhaps it was selfish. No, Annabeth _knew_ it was selfish. Selfish to hide her feelings in hopes that they would simply – _go away_ with time. Deep down, she knew they wouldn't go away. She knew they would only grow, the more time she spent with her best friend. Especially now, especially now that –

But Percy was answering her question.

"Well…" he said unsurely. Obviously of the responses he had chartered in his head, _why_ hadn't been one of them. "I just – I don't know. Because you're brave, and clever, and you stand up for yourself, and you're ambitious, but always for other people, and – dammit, Annabeth. You're just _you._ "

It was a far longer speech than she had honestly expected. Because he was right. She _was_ Annabeth, and that was the problem. People didn't seem to stick around, when it came to her. Even Thalia and Luke, the constants in her life before Percy, had drifted away a bit recently. She wasn't even sure why; they refused to even admit to it.

"All right," she said, putting her head down in exhaustion on his back when it hit her again.

He was her best friend.

And he'd just said _he was in love with her._

But she was never – _never –_ going to say anything or encourage him in that way. She couldn't. If she died – and she most likely would, the odds of a spy were slim, let alone a double-crossing spy – she wouldn't be able to bear leaving Percy behind.

Or the other way around. That – no. She wouldn't even think about Percy getting hurt. Percy was going to live, even if she didn't. He deserved that. Percy was _Percy,_ and she couldn't lose him. Not now, not ever.

"I can't – I can't say I'm in love with you too," she told him, and could physically _feel_ his deep hurt at her words. She hastened to explain – "Not because I'm not – I am – but because I can't love you like that. I _can't,_ Percy. I can't lose you too."

She felt his hair brush her cheek as he nodded slowly. "I – I cannot say I am not disappointed," he said, and Annabeth could hear the slight break in his voice. It broke her, too; she clenched her fists so hard she felt a drop of blood run down her right palm.

"You most likely will not even remember this tomorrow," Percy said, softer. Annabeth could hear how his voice was choked and the way he was trying to _hide it._ For her. He was trying not to hurt her, even after she had crushed him.

It made her heart physically _hurt._

Percy was still talking, and Annabeth did her best to listen, but everything was slowing down in her mind. "We can – just… go back to normal. Be best friends." The way he said it, like Annabeth had shoved knives into his body with her words, pounded on her exhausted mind and body, torturing her.

But this was necessary. Her feelings – and his – would go away. It was just a matter of time.

They were almost to their house now; the snow fell gently and softly and completely oblivious to how Annabeth had just wrecked her best friend in the world.

Her last memory was how soft his shoulder was when she laid her head down and fell into a deep sleep.

•

Annabeth blinked twice before actually opening her eyes.

Everything _hurt_.

Honestly, she had never before thought that light should be banned from a room, but this was too much. The winter morning sunlight filtering in through the windows in her room set her head _pounding._

A maid bustled in with a tray. "Here you are, Miss Chase," she said, setting it down and exiting before Annabeth could get her mind around to thanking her.

She looked down, wincing. A plate of toast, eggs, preserves, and muffins sat in the middle. On the edge was a full mug of water with a piece of paper peeking out from underneath it. She raised her eyebrows and pulled it out: a note from Percy.

 _Dear Annabeth,_

 _I don't know how much of later last night you will remember, but be it suffice to say that you had a good deal of champagne and probably have a bit of a headache this morning. I've had more than my share of late nights and whiskey, so I will say from experience that drinking water helps a good deal._

 _All my love,_

 _Percy_

Annabeth smiled, folding back up the little note. Last night had been amazing, but it felt like something was missing, like she had forgotten something important. Her last memory was pulling on her cloak and getting ready to leave the party in the wee hours of the morning.

 _Wait._ No, a flash of something else came to her mind. She pushed through the pain of her aching head, trying to remember.

The carriage hadn't come, so she and Percy had begun walking home… and he had carried her. Not that it mattered much – he had carried her on his back often during their stay at her grandparents' plantation – but they had been talking, and she had realized something. Something important.

However hard she tried, she couldn't remember. So she ate her breakfast and wasn't even surprised when a gently knock sounded on her door.

"Are you decent?" Percy asked, voice muffled.

She glanced down. She was in her shift, but still under the coverlet. Percy had seen her in less. "Come in," she called, quickly drinking the water.

Percy peeked his head around the door, then came in and sat down on her bed. His hair was scruffy, like he had just gotten out of bed, and he only wore his nightshirt over his breeches. They were half tucked in and half untucked, and Annabeth found it strangely endearing.

"How's your head?" he asked honestly, and she had to laugh.

"Rather terrible," she admitted. "But you're right, the water helps."

He chuckled. "Yes, as I said, I've had experience." He paused, green eyes turning wary. "Do you – do you remember anything from last night?"

"Well, obviously I remember the party," she told him. "And remind me to make a stop the silver shop to tell Paul Revere about the gunpowder conversation I heard." He nodded. "I remember you carried me home," she added with a quick laugh, and wondered why his expression suddenly turned guarded. "But no, not much else."

"So… you don't remember anything we talked about on the way home?" he asked, his scruffy black eyebrow raised.

"Why, no," Annabeth said, a little confused. "Should I?"

"Oh, no! I mean, we didn't talk about anything important." He laughed nervously, and Annabeth's brow furrowed, trying to figure out why he was acting strange. "Well, I'd better be going. Major Pitcairn expects me later this morning."

He was almost to the door when Annabeth finally got over the suddenness and opened her mouth. "Percy?" she called, and he stuck his head back in. "Are – are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. Too quickly. "I'm fine."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Annabeth with a pounding headache and a mind buzzing with questions.

 **And that's it! It's a bit of a longer chapter, but you guys deserve it after me not updating for months. Hope you enjoyed it! Extra shout out to Helena for doing an amazing job editing this chapter and catching a ton of mistakes. Love you, girl!**

 **Thank you all my amazing readers! xxx Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!**

 **WM**


	12. Snowstorms and Kisses

**Hey guys! So yes, I will try to be updating every Saturday, but I'm traveling all over the country in July, and I'll be at camp for a week as well, so I'm not sure how regularly July will be. However, I'll do my best! Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 _January 13_ _th_ _, 1775_

Annabeth, Percy found out, _loved_ snow.

Which was strange, because she lived in Boston. Boston received bucket loads of snow every single winter, unlike London, so he would have assumed she'd be sick of it by now.

But she _wasn't._ Every time there was snow, she dragged him out to have a snowball fight at the wharf with her little although this winter hadn't yet brought any huge snowstorms, he knew that they would come eventually.

And he was right.

A few weeks after the Christmas party, the grey clouds above Boston got forebodingly darker. Percy glanced up as Blackjack's hooves clopped across the cold cobblestones. The air was frigid, but most of the previous snow had melted, and the rest of it had turned into muddy ice chunks sprinkled along the roadside.

It looked like that was about to change.

He urged Blackjack faster, hoping to get home before the storm struck. It was strange; he'd begun to think of the Chase's house as _home._

Or maybe he just thought of Annabeth as home.

Just the thought of Annabeth, though, brought up a myriad of other feelings.

He wasn't sure if he was glad or angry that Annabeth didn't remember their conversation from the night of the party. On one hand, it was probably for the best that she didn't. They were back to normal now, or as normal as pining for your best friend secretly could be. He still hugged her tighter than friends normally would, was still a bit too protective when other soldiers yelled crude remarks as she went by. It was just – _Annabeth._ He couldn't just _not_ care about her.

Percy jerked his thoughts back to the present. Honestly, if he could get over his feelings for Annabeth in that way, he would. It was something he thought about far too much, although it hadn't yet gotten in the way of their friendship.

 _Yet._

He reached the Chases' home just as the snow was beginning to fall; large, fluffy flakes swirling around Blackjack's hooves. For one second, he stuck his tongue out the way he used to as a child, trying to catch some of the elusive snowflakes on his tongue.

He quickly dismounted and sent Blackjack off with one of the servant boys, stomping to get the snow off his boots before entering the house. The warmth hit him like a blast, and he basked in it as he took off his coat.

Annabeth had her feet propped up on the stool as she read a thick book. Her hair was a mess under a stained mob-cap, and she had a thick knitted shawl thrown hastily around her shoulders, warding off the chill even the blazing fire couldn't banish.

She glanced up as he came in, a smile blooming. "Hello, Percy. You're home late."

He rubbed his hands together next to the fire. "Yes, I had some things to take care of at camp," he told her. "It looks as though a snowstorm will be passing through tonight."

Her features brightened. "Oh, a large one? Matthew and Robert will be pleased to hear it, I know."

Percy smirked at her, taking a seat next to her on the couch. "As though you will not be out sledding with them as well," he told her with a grin.

Annabeth opened her mouth indignantly. "You most certainly cannot talk, Perseus. It only snowed six inches at Christmastime, and you managed to win three snowball fights."

He stood up, stretching. "All right, yes, I admit I love snow. Satisfied?"

Annabeth laughed, going back to her book. "This time, I'm beating you soundly," she assured him. "I promise you that."

•

Percy was awakened the next morning by either Robert or Matthew (even after months of living with the Chases, he still couldn't tell them apart) jumping on his bed.

"It snowed, Percy," the little boy cried excitedly. "It _snowed!"_

Percy groaned. "Bobby –"

"I'm Matthew."

"Matthew, whoever – what time is it?" He flopped back onto the straw mattress, wincing it poked him in uncomfortable places.

"Annabeth said it's eight o'clock in the morning," Matthew said importantly. "She said you need to wake up."

Percy groaned again, but rolled out of bed. He pulled on an old wool coat of his – not his uniform – and his thick wool stockings and worn leather boots. After setting a delighted Matthew on his shoulders, he tromped downstairs, where he could smell the servants making breakfast.

"Well, _finally._ " Annabeth didn't even bother with greetings as he walked into the parlor, Matthew giggling on his shoulders. Percy set the boy down gently, letting him race off to find his twin, and sat down wearily next to Annabeth on the sofa.

"Just because you got up with the birds –" he began indignantly, but she hushed him with a wave of her hand.

"It snowed almost two _feet_ last night, Percy, and it's still snowing lightly. I promised the boys we would have a snowball fight and maybe take them to the sledding hill. How can I do that without you?"

Percy groaned, letting his body fall bonelessly onto the rest of the sofa, his head falling in her lap. She kept reading, as though not aware of the interruption. "You could have waited another _hour,_ 'beth. I know, I know, 'tis difficult to understand the concept of _patience,_ but –"

The book clunked on his head, and he winced. All right, so he _might_ have deserved that a bit.

"Besides, if you were up later, you would have missed breakfast," she pointed out, combing through his wild morning hair with her fingers. Percy winced as she tugged at a large knot.

"I could have simply stopped by the tavern for a plate of hot oatmeal," he argued. A bit because it was true _,_ but mostly because he just liked arguing with Annabeth.

She rolled her grey eyes, long eyelashes fluttering. "We both know you love my mother's griddlecakes. Now get off me, you oaf. Let's go eat."

Percy gazed after her adoringly as she flounced out of the room before following. Annabeth was right; he wouldn't have missed the morning meal with the Chases for anything.

Especially when he could sit next to his best friend and listen to her laugh with her younger brothers, chat amiably with her parents, stifle yawns behind her hands, and give him the secret glances that he loved so dearly.

No, he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

•

"Alright, Matthew," he whispered, glancing quickly to make sure Annabeth and Robert, whom they all called Bobby, were out of earshot. "I need you to start making snowballs, while I make the fort. I believe the enemy will be storing their snowballs on their toboggan. If we can steal their toboggan, it will help up with the war because they won't have any ammunition, and we shall have ours _and_ theirs."

Matthew nodded seriously, though Percy doubted the six-year-old had understood much of his speech. "Should I steal 'beth and Bobby's snowballs?" he asked seriously, dark eyes solemn.

Percy choked back a laugh; the child was adorable. "For now, just make as many snowballs as you can for us, all right?"

The boy nodded and sat down in the fluffy drift, mittened hands busily going to work.

Percy hastily began building a wall of snow, which would hopefully shield himself and Matthew from whatever plan Annabeth had begun. She was a master of planning, and Percy knew she was hugely competitive. She would do whatever it took to win the snow war.

Well, he and Matthew weren't going down without a fight.

After the wall, probably five feet long and three feet tall, was built, Percy and Matthew hid the myriad snowballs behind it. By then, Annabeth and Bobby's fort was built too, and Percy could see he was right; their toboggan was covered in mounds of snow.

"Matthew, all their snowballs are on their sledge," he whispered. "However, the hill is right behind their fort. We can't let them get down the hill with their snowballs, or we'll never get them. I'll distract them, you go for the sledge. Alright?"

Matthew nodded, a glint in his dark eyes. Percy grinned and the two charged, yelling like banshees.

Percy saw Annabeth to the left of her fort, her bright blue cloak swirling as red-mittened hands worked furiously to create more ice-hard balls of snow. He pounded her and Bobby with snowballs before realizing they were both guarding the fort, instead of the toboggan. He paused for a second and realized the trap.

"Fall back, Matthew!" he hollered, waving his arms as he retreated. "There aren't any snowballs on their sledge! It's a trap!"

Unfortunately, Matthew either didn't hear him or didn't care. He and the snow-filled toboggan teetered dangerously on the edge of the hill before he fell onto the sled. With a lurch, it began racing down the hill.

"No! My comrade," Percy howled, grabbing his own sledge and chasing after him. He threw himself onto the toboggan and began speeding down the hill headfirst after Matthew. "I'll save you!"

He could hear Annabeth chortling with laughter above him and Bobby's snowballs whizzing by his ears, but he managed to get to the bottom of the hill before his sled overturned, dumping him into the snow.

"Matthew! You alright there?" he called, staggering to his feet and wiggling uncomfortably, trying to get the snow out of his trousers. It didn't work and began to melt, trickling down his legs. He groaned inwardly, knowing his undergarments would be soaked by the time they got home.

"I'm fine!" Matthew yelled, furiously gathering snow. "Let's go get 'em!"

With another Indian-like war hoot, the two charged up the hill. Annabeth and Bobby ran to meet them, Bobby tumbling a bit before getting to his feet and racing towards them. The four crashed together in a jumble of arms and legs and mittens and snow.

Annabeth dumped more snow down Percy's exposed neck, causing him to howl indignantly. He managed to face-plant Annabeth in the snow and washed her face well, during which she half-sputtered angrily, but began dissolving into laughter before he was even finished. The two boys were wrestling in the drifts, snow everywhere, and Annabeth and Percy joined them, snowballs flying.

Finally, they were all far too worn out to do anything more, all soaked uncomfortably with snow. Percy was sure his undergarments had begun to freeze in the frigid air. The four fell onto the drifts, catching snowflakes with their tongues.

"See," Annabeth said suddenly, rolling to face Percy. "I _told_ you I'd beat you."

"Ha, you think you beat me?" Percy asked lazily as he looked into the grey sky. The snow-filled clouds were thick and heavy; the dark grey color reminded him of Annabeth's eyes when she was angry.

"Why yes, I believe I did," Annabeth said smugly.

He rolled onto his elbow, facing her. "And what makes you think that?" he bantered back playfully.

"The fact that you," Annabeth leaned closer, "have snow melting through the seat of your trousers!"

Percy groaned with laughter. "I _knew_ I should have layered more than one pair!"

Annabeth's bell-like laughter sounded through the frozen air. "So you see, I most obviously won. You hear that, Bobby?" she called over to where the little boys were making more snowballs. "We won!"

"Yes, I knew we could," Bobby shouted, beginning to dance happily.

"Percy, why didn't _we_ win?" Matthew whined.

Percy got to his feet and ruffled the boy's hair. "We'll win next time, don't you worry. Now, where's your hat?" He offered a hand to Annabeth, and she got to her feet as well.

"I think I've lost my scarf," she announced. "Percy, help me look for it?"

After hats, mittens, and scarves that had been abandoned during the fight were found, the little boys sat on the sleds. Percy grabbed the string of one, and Annabeth took the other. Together they walked home in the snow, the twins throwing snowballs and catching snowflakes in their tongues all the way.

•

After the twins had been put to bed for their afternoon naps, Percy asked Annabeth if she wanted to go for a walk. She agreed, shrugging on her damp wool cloak, which had been drying by the fire.

"I love snow," Annabeth told him happily, spreading her arms as though trying to absorb the beautiful winter scene.

"Why?" Percy asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't know the _exact_ reason," Annabeth answered, pausing to wave at a shopkeeper in the window of his store. "It's just so beautiful, and fragile, and yet deadly."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "So you like snow because it's both attractive and fatal?"

She laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Well, when you put it like _that –_ "

He chuckled, taking her arm casually as they walked. The smell of warm chimney smoke breezed by, reminding him of the warm fire at home. "Will Luke and Thalia be coming for dinner anytime soon?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly. "I know since Luke moved out and bought his own house, he hasn't been around as much, but…"

Annabeth shrugged, her features darkening a tad. "Well, he and Thalia are courting now, and they might even be married once he has saved enough money to pay off his debts on the new house. It's natural, that I don't see them as much now."

Percy put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer comfortingly. He knew Annabeth as well as himself, now; he could see how much the absence of her old friends was hurting her, however well she might hide it. "They're probably just busy," he reassured her. "In fact, if I see either of them soon, I shall invite them for supper."

Annabeth's face brightened, and Percy's heart twisted just a bit. "Thank you, Percy," she said softly. "That means a lot to me."

He smiled at her. "I know."

•

"Jason? Jason Grace?" Percy couldn't contain his amazement at seeing the friend he and Annabeth had made last fall at their doorstep. The snow had grown a bit heavier since his and Annabeth's walk that afternoon, and it was a wonder that Jason had managed to get to their house in the near-darkness.

"Good to see you, Officer Jackson," Jason said, wide grin in place. "'Tis been far too long. How are you? And how is your Annabeth?"

"We are well, as you can see if you come inside," Percy said, gesturing quickly. "'Tis far too cold for you to stand on the doorstep." Jason stepped inside, shedding his coat, and Percy led the way to the parlor, where Annabeth was reading.

She glanced up as they entered, and her features brightened. "Jason!"

"Annabeth," he greeted her with a bow. "I trust you are well?"

"Very," she obliged. "Come, sit down. I was just about to have Hazel bring us some tea."

Jason sat on the horsehair sofa, across from Annabeth's chair by the fire. Percy took a seat by Annabeth's feet, leaning against them and enjoying the warmth of the fire.

"What brings you here, after so long?" Annabeth asked him eagerly.

"Well, I started a tanning business on the outskirts of town," Jason told them. "It's close enough to the Neck that I can make deliveries and see Piper quite often, and I make good money." He began to talk about how the business was going, and he and Annabeth conversed for several minutes.

On one hand, Percy was glad to see his friend. But on another, the fire was delightfully warm, and Annabeth's layers of warm petticoats made for an excellent pillow.

"We are both so happy for you," Annabeth supplied, voice delighted. " _Aren't_ we, Percy?"

Percy felt her leg nudging his back, and he started awake. "Uh, yes. Yes, we are." His brow furrowed. "What are we happy about?"

Jason chuckled; Annabeth looked both annoyed and endeared. "That Jason's almost saved enough money to buy a farm outside of Boston," she supplied.

"I also found a minister who would be willing to marry Piper and me, once I have obtained the farm," Jason continued, ducking his head shyly.

Annabeth laughed. "I'm sure it will be wonderful. Will you have much of a ceremony?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't think so. Very few people would approve of me marrying her, let alone her becoming a housewife. I want to make sure she is as comfortable as possible with neighbors and friends, which will probably include introducing her to them slowly."

Percy saw Annabeth nod in understanding as his eyes began to droop shut again. They talked for a while, their voices blurring in Percy's head, until Jason suggested they play cards.

Percy's eyes popped open. "Cards?" he asked, ignoring Annabeth's snicker.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Cards, you bloody idiot." Hazel came in with a pot of hot tea, and Jason tipped his cup towards Percy. "May the best man win."

•

"Honestly, Percy," Annabeth murmured against his shoulder, breath tickling his ear. "It's almost two in the morning.

"I had to win, Annabeth," Percy said stubbornly. He waved good-bye one last time to Jason, who was riding his horse home in the cold night. After shutting the door, Percy followed her back to the parlor, rubbing his hands together. "My, 'tis cold. I pity Jason."

Annabeth rolled her eyes as she pulled the thick knitted shawl closer around her slim shoulders. Percy knew it was her favorite. "He wouldn't be riding home so late if you two hadn't been such children about the game."

"I _won,_ Annabeth, and he wouldn't admit it," Percy protested. "So we had to play again."

Annabeth rolled her eyes again, but he could tell she was at least a _little_ endeared. "'Tis your own bloody fault if you're exhausted tomorrow morning again," she announced.

Since they were sitting next to each other on the carpet, sipping tea in front of the fire, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. If he had been totally coherent he probably wouldn't have, but it was almost two o'clock in the morning, and his wits were, at best a little foggy.

He decided not to argue the point, for now. Instead, he asked, "Shall I walk you to your bedroom?"

"Oh, please," Annabeth answered him drily. "I most certainly cannot find my way to my own room without you."

He winked at her. "You know me, always the gentleman."

She huffed, but he helped her up, setting her teacup carefully on the table. They maneuvered the dark halls of the Chases' house until they reached her bedroom.

"Good night, Annabeth," he said when they get to her door, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill.

"Good night, Percy," Annabeth told him. "Thank you for a wonderful day." And before Percy can think, she raised herself on tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek.

He blinked.

Annabeth pulled back, a demure little smile on her face. "See you tomorrow," she said, opening the door to her room.

"See – tomorrow – night," Percy stuttered. She grinned at him before shutting the door.

Percy went to bed with a dorky grin on his face that he couldn't wipe off, not matter what he tried. And honestly, he wouldn't want to.

Not for the world.

 **And that's it! Yes, I realize I'm posting a snowstorm chapter in July. Because reasons. :P**

 **As always, big shout out to Helena (GollyGeeWhiz), who always does an awesome job with editing (did I mention that I constantly randomly switch to present tense and she's the one who has to fix it? Because it's true.) Also, have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate her (because she really is amazing). :D On the subject of awesome friends, Mia (herecomesthepun) is also a sweetheart and never fails to make me laugh. Love you both! xx**

 **Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed last chapter! You know it means the world to me. AND WE GOT TO 100 REVIEWS HOW CRAZY IS THAT?! Thank you guys SO much!**

 **Until next week (hopefully),**

 **WM**


	13. Winter Whims

**Hey guys! Yes, I'm updating a bit early, because I'm leaving for a wedding tonight and won't be back until Monday. I'm not sure if I'll have wifi in my hotel, so I just decided to be on the safe side and update today. Hope you enjoy! :)**

 _February 2_ _nd_ _, 1775_

Annabeth was tired of winter.

Well, not _tired,_ exactly. Just wishing it was over. She wanted the feel sun on her face and warm breezes in her hair, not snowstorms and frigid air. Although playing in the snow with Percy and her brothers was enjoyable, she most _definitely_ was ready for spring.

Unfortunately, she knew she wouldn't be getting her wish for a while.

With February came more snow. Ice coated the roads; her father's shop grew less busy, while his doctor calls grew more frequent. People had broken bones from falling on ice, frostbite from being outside too long, and a myriad of sicknesses from the cramped quarters and unwashed bodies. Though she was only seventeen, Annabeth had been taught apothecary skills since she was young, and her father asked her to accompany him on house calls regularly.

One night, she woke to her father shaking her gently. "What is it, Father?" she asked groggily.

"One of Mrs. Smith's servant boys just arrived at our door. She has gone into labor, and far earlier than we expected. I will most likely need your help."

Annabeth nodded, trying to clear the fogginess from her head. She knew she hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, but this was obviously urgent. Sleep could wait.

Dr. Chase exited her room, telling her to hurry. Annabeth quickly pulled on high, thick wool stockings and her heavy petticoats over her shift. She grabbed her dress from the day before and pulled it over her head, tying a fresh apron overtop it. After lacing up her leather boots, she wrapped her favorite shawl around her shoulders and fastened her wool cloak over it. She knew from experience that it was best to bundle up against the freezing night air.

She quietly made her way downstairs, doing her best not to wake Mrs. Chase, Percy, or her brothers. To her surprise, Percy and her father were talking in low tones when she arrived.

"Percy," she greeted him quietly, trying to disguise the weariness in her voice. He worried about her health far too much already. "What are you doing up?"

Percy sent her a smile. "Your father asked me to come too. He said he needed all the help he could get."

Annabeth nodded and shivered a bit. Percy, of course, noticed. "Are you dressed warmly enough?" he asked. Annabeth nodded again.

"We must leave now," Dr. Chase reminded them. The two nodded, Percy pulling on his cloak over his coat. The servant boy had already left, riding away on a fast black mule, so the three of them quickly stepped into the carriage. One of the stable boys yawned as he hooked up the horses, and within moments they were off.

It wasn't a long ride to Mrs. Smith's house, but there was plenty of time for the nerves to start bubbling in Annabeth's stomach. This would be her first time going to a birth, and she knew as well as anybody that the death rate for infants was high. Not to mention that Mrs. Smith was going into labor almost a month early – it would surely take a miracle for both her and the baby to survive.

Annabeth clenched her fists. They _would_ survive, as long as she had anything to do with it.

Percy seemed to notice her nervousness, and his large, rough hand took hold of hers comfortingly. She squeezed back, relishing in the safety and comfort it brought.

Sooner than Annabeth would have wished, the carriage was stopping at Mrs. Smith's door. The three of them got out quickly.

"Percy, can you go take the horses to the stable? 'Tis too cold for them to be out tonight, and I do not know how long we'll be."

Percy nodded and led the horses to the stable next to the house. Annabeth and her father hurried to the house.

Inside was chaos, a stark contrast to the cold, quiet night outside. Mrs. Smith's three old children – two boys, age four and seven, and a little girl of five – were all crying simultaneously. Mr. Smith looked exhausted and worried, his face pinched in thin lines.

"Dr. Chase! Thank God you've come. Quickly, quickly. Children," he said, addressing the three weeping youngsters hanging on his legs, "Mistress Annabeth will tend to you for now."

The children stopped crying and gazed at her. Annabeth held out her arms. "Come here, sweets," she said in a low, soothing voice. Years of experience with her younger brothers told her that the children weren't really scared, just confused and tired. "Do you want to read a book?" She pulled a small book from her bag. It was _Noah and the Ark_ , with bright pictures of the animals.

The children warily moved towards her, and Annabeth sighed inwardly with relief. Mr. Smith nodded at her gratefully before disappearing into the bedroom with Dr. Chase, and Annabeth sent one of the maids for some hot chocolate for the children.

Just as the warm drinks arrived, Percy bustled in through the door, taking off his heavy cloak. "How is she doing?" he asked Annabeth in a low tone as he helped hand out the hot chocolate.

"I don't know." Annabeth worried her lower lip. "Father went into the bedroom and hasn't been back out yet. I think –"

Just then, Dr. Chase shouted from behind the bedroom door, "Annabeth! I need your help immediately."

Annabeth quickly got to her feet. "Children, this is Percy. He's going to read you the book while I tend to your mama. Can you be good for him?" She ignored Percy's quiet squawk of protest beside her.

The children nodded solemnly.

"Annabeth, I'm not really, uh, _experienced_ with children," he said nervously out of the corner of his mouth.

"Nonsense," Annabeth said in a voice that left no room for argument. "I've seen you with my brothers, Percy. They love you. You'll be fine," she assured him.

Percy grimaced, but gingerly sat on the sofa, and immediately the four-year-old climbed up next to him and snuggled into his side. Looking a bit stunned, Percy began reading the book, and the two other children gathered around to listen, drying their tears. The seven-year-old began to make noises imitating the animals, and Annabeth allowed herself a smile at the sight before hurrying to the bedroom and shutting the door.

"Yes, Father?" she asked, taking off her cloak and retying her apron. Mrs. Smith lay on the bed, sweaty and panting. Her husband paced in the corner of the room.

His brow furrowed, Dr. Chase turned to his daughter, speaking quietly. "It's much too early. I highly doubt the child will live, and I am not sure about the mother, either."

"They _will,_ " Annabeth assured him firmly.

Dr. Chase sighed, running a hand through his hair wearily. "We shall see. For now, go heat up a large pot of water, and see if you can find some cloths. This will be a long night."

•

Almost eight hours later, the sun was barely peeking over the hills, turning the thick snow clouds in the sky a pale pink. Snow had begun to fall sometime during the night, and Annabeth allowed herself a second to appreciate the gorgeous sunrise before turning back to Mrs. Smith.

The poor woman had struggled through agonizing contractions hour after hour; Annabeth was amazed at her strength. She quickly pressed a cool washcloth to the woman's forehead, wiping away both sweat and tears. Dr. Chase was at the foot of the bed, and Mr. Smith had fallen asleep in an armchair.

A thin hand grasped her wrist as she turned away. "I want to hold… my baby," Mrs. Smith's weak voice rasped. Her brow was furrowed, and Annabeth knew the mother understood that chances of her child's survival were slim.

She took the woman's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I promise, you shall," she said, realizing only after she said it that she had no right to promise anything. Dr. Chase was convinced at this point the baby would not live.

Annabeth gazed down at Mrs. Smith and felt her heart constrict. The young woman was not much older than herself; maybe three-and-twenty at the most. Most girls were married earlier, and Mrs. Smith must have been no older than fourteen or fifteen when she married.

Annabeth couldn't imagine herself in less than five years with three children and one on the way, but she also knew she was lucky. Her own family was relatively wealthy, from the combined income from the shop and Dr. Chase's medical work; there was no need for her to marry. But many other families were forced to marry off their daughters when they were young, because they had other mouths to feed and couldn't afford to have her live with them anymore. One of Annabeth's old friends, Lou Ellen, had been married when she was only thirteen, to a man fifteen years older than her. Although her husband was a good man and could provide for his young wife and children, Annabeth couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Suddenly a contraction seized Mrs. Smith, jerking Annabeth from her thoughts. The young woman gritted her teeth, holding Annabeth's hand so tightly that she thought her wrist might break. Dr. Chase called out, "It's coming!"

The baby slipped out, and Annabeth saw her father catch it, blood and other fluids covering the tiny thing. For a split second, Annabeth's heart sank. _The baby wasn't crying._

And then a loud, lusty cry burst forth, and Annabeth felt a wave of relief hit her. Mrs. Smith's shoulders sagged in gladness and exhaustion, and she released Annabeth's hand. Annabeth hurried to the foot of the bed.

"A healthy baby girl," Dr. Chase announced, his voice joyful. Annabeth could see the tension in his shoulders relax. Annabeth helped him cut the cord and gently tied a bit of string around the stub.

After the baby was free, he handed the wailing newborn to his daughter. "She's smaller than normal, for certain, but I believe she will be fine. Clean her up while I take care of Mrs. Smith," he told her. "The birth was hard on her body, so it might be a while, and I don't want to wake Mr. Smith just yet."

Annabeth nodded and took the baby, marveling in the tininess and newness of it. Thick, creamy substance covered its skin, and a head of dark hair caught her eye. She quickly cleaned off and swaddled the baby, holding it gently.

As soon as it was warm, the little thing stopped its crying and fell asleep. Annabeth touched its face wonderingly, tracing its delicate cheekbones and tiny nose. It was so tiny, so _precious_ , that Annabeth felt her heart constrict.

She carefully walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, making her way to the Smith's parlor. When she reached it, Annabeth had to stifle a laugh. Percy was sitting on the couch, head thrown back and snoring. All three children were on top of him in varying positions; the youngest one was half upside down, head in Percy's lap, and the other two were in a tangle of limbs on his other side.

Annabeth used the free hand that wasn't holding the baby to shake him. "Percy, wake up," she whispered.

His eyes opened groggily. "Annabeth?" She shushed him, and his eyes widened, seeing the three sleeping children hanging on him. His eyes flew back to her. "Mrs. Smith? The baby?"

She smiled and showed him the sleeping bundle in her arms. His grin grew huge, and he hastily but carefully moved the little bodies onto the couch and stood up, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Boy or girl?" he asked in a whisper.

"Girl," Annabeth told him. She carefully held out the tiny baby. "Do you want to hold her?"

He looked worried. "I – I've never held a baby before –"

"I'll help," she assured him, and gave him the baby. "Just support the head – yes, like that – and cradle it. Perfect," she told him quietly, the baby now in the crook of his left arm. Its tiny size was even more apparent in Percy's lanky, muscular form; it looked like nothing but a doll, and Annabeth knew the baby's tiny body was fragile enough for Percy to snap in two without much effort.

And yet she had never seen him be more gentle. His rough finger flitted up to touch the baby's face, tracing over the fuzzy eyebrows and miniature ears. Little eyelashes fluttered as his fingers traced the tiny lips, and the baby opened her eyes, revealing cloudy, murky blue gazing up at the two of them.

Annabeth moved closer, hand resting on his shoulder. "She can't see us yet, at least not how we see," she explained softly. "But she can hear."

Percy's face was awash in awe, looking down at the baby's eyes gazing up at them, and he began to hum softly. His form, like a giant compared to the precious bundle in his arms, began to rock from side to side, swaying to the lullaby he was humming.

Annabeth let her eyes wander from the infant to Percy. Even having never held a baby before, he looked relaxed and at ease, and completely in love with the infant as he sang softly to it. She had already known, from when he played with her younger brothers and reading books to the Smith children the night before, that he was good with children, but seeing him with a newborn in his arms made her realize just how amazing of a father he would be some day.

She shook the thoughts from her head, but knew the picture of Percy singing to a tiny infant in his arms would stay with her forever.

Annabeth decided to let the children sleep, since they had been up for hours the night before. She herself was exhausted; her head was pounding, and every step took an enormous amount of effort, but she knew it could be a while before they could leave.

After a few minutes, she took the baby back from Percy and went back to the bedroom. Mr. Smith was just waking up, and his exhausted wife had fallen asleep.

An expression similar to Percy's was on his face as he gazed down at his baby daughter. "Can I hold her?" he asked wonderingly, and Annabeth gladly handed the child to its father.

She quickly moved to where her father stood, cleaning up. "Mrs. Smith will be completely fine," he answered her unspoken question. "The baby is healthy, as well."

Annabeth smiled. "I knew they would be." She embraced him wearily.

He pulled back. "I know you must be tired, dear. We shall leave soon, I promise."

"I'm fine," Annabeth lied, putting on a smile. "Don't worry about me, Father. Shall I tell Percy to get the carriage?"

He looked at her fondly. "Yes, you may. And Annabeth?"

She paused as she went through the door. "Yes?"

His expression was proud. "I could not have saved both mother and daughter without you. Thank you for your help tonight."

Annabeth felt a real smile spread across her face. "You're welcome, Father," she said, and closed the door.

She entered the parlor and saw the three children were still sleeping, and Percy had begun dozing again in one of the chairs. Annabeth hated to wake him, but she knew they should be getting home. "Percy," she said, shaking him gently. "We're leaving."

He grunted and opened his eyes. "I'm awake," he said quickly, sitting up, before immediately falling back asleep. Annabeth tried not to laugh.

"Percy. Home. _Food_ ," she tried, and he groaned quietly and sat up.

"I was having the most wonderful dream," he complained quietly as he got to his feet, yawning.

'Oh? What was it about?" asked Annabeth absentmindedly as she fastened her cloak.

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away. "Uh – I don't remember," he said quickly. Annabeth sent him a look, but he busied himself with pulling on his own cloak and wouldn't look at her.

Annabeth was a bit curious, but was too exhausted to press the matter further. Dr. Chase came into the room and motioned for them to come; they did, though Percy carefully tucked a blanket over the three sleeping children on the sofa.

"Thank you both for coming to help," Dr. Chase said once they were in the carriage heading home. "Like I told Annabeth, you both were invaluable."

"My pleasure, sir," Percy told him as he offered a hand to Annabeth as she got in the carriage. She took it gratefully as she sat down with a sigh. Percy got in after her, shutting the door.

Dr. Chase, sitting in the front of the buggy, snapped the reigns, and the horses began trotting home. Annabeth felt Percy's arm slide around her shoulders, and she leaned into it, sighing contentedly. Sitting down for the first time in hours felt like heaven to her sore feet, and her headache quieted a bit.

They were quiet for a bit before Percy spoke. "Are you alright?"

Annabeth nodded wearily. "Just tired. This is the first time I've sat down since the carriage ride over here." She glanced up at his worried expression and smile reassuringly. "Don't worry so much, Perce. I'll get some rest when we get home."

He nodded with a tired smile, and they both looked out the window at the falling snow. The sun had come up, but clouds were covering it, and the day was dark. Dark grey clouds blanketed the horizon.

"Thank you for taking care of the children," Annabeth said suddenly. "They loved you, the little one especially."

Percy laughed a little. "Yes, he did take a liking to me, didn't he. It was enjoyable. I like children," he added certainly, and Annabeth smothered a giggle.

"Yes, I like children too." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Goodnight, Percy."

She felt him kiss her hair gently. "Goodnight, Annabeth."

•

Annabeth was just as busy the next few weeks; she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. She passed a mirror one day and was shocked at the dark, purple-grey circles under her eyes, made clearer by the rest of her face being drawn and far too pale. Her father tried to take as many calls as he could by himself, but the cold weather seemed to multiply the accidents and sicknesses, and he needed her help almost every day.

Although it felt like she never stopped working – her duties included feeding the sick, emptying vomit bowls and chamber pots, taking care of small children, setting broken bones, wrapping frostbitten fingers, and more – she gathered quite a lot of small tidbits of information. The information ranged from the British troops movements, the governor's plans, and everything in between. Paul Revere was delighted, and gave her more than enough small, fake tidbits to give back to Major Pitcairn.

It was all going well until she herself got sick.

Although most of the time she felt fine, Annabeth knew the malaria she had gotten the summer before had weakened her body. Honestly, she was surprised she hadn't contracted one of the various illnesses she was around constantly before this.

Somehow, it still came as a shock when she passed out at the breakfast table one frigid morning. At first, her father thought it was just lack of sleep – she had been out with him so much and throughout the hours of the night. But she knew she hadn't been well for a while.

It wasn't as bad as the malaria, but whatever illness Annabeth caught took her out for weeks. She had a fever for days, tossing and turning, head pounding, body aching. She threw up most of what she ate, and she grew dangerously thin.

Although her parents insisted that her brothers stay away so they weren't exposed to the sickness, Percy sneaked into the sickroom so much that her father gave up trying to keep him out. He held her hair as she vomited up the contents of her stomach, helped her sip water slowly, and told her stories to keep her mind off her pounding head. Sometimes his rough voice sang her to sleep, bashfully grinning when she told him she liked his singing.

Other times, Annabeth would wake up after a particularly bad night to him dozing in a chair by the side of her bead, drool making a trail from the corner of his mouth. She would chuckle quietly and go back to sleep, comforted in knowing that he was there and taking care of her.

It was halfway through March by the time she was finally feeling well enough to get out of bed. The weak sunshine had just barely begun to melt the snow and ice, and Annabeth begged her father to let her outside.

"You're too weak," he told her firmly. "You cannot walk down the stairs, and I'm not as strong as I used to be; I can't carry you. I'm sorry, Annabeth."

Of course, Percy came to her rescue. With her father's grudging permission, he scooped her up, blankets and all, and carried her into the cold spring sun with the greatest of care. He brought out an old wooden chair for her, and there she sat for hours every day, reading and soaking up the sun and fresh air after being inside for so long.

•

 _February 25_ _th_ _, 1775_

Tugging the brush through her matted curls, Annabeth let out a growl, then a little squeal of pain. She rarely brushed her hair; usually only before she took a bath, and baths were rare, especially in the winter. But she felt disgusting after being sick and in bed for so long, and she had finally grown strong enough to take a bath by herself.

The servants had already drawn the water, so Annabeth let herself sink into the metal tub with a sigh. The steaming water, fresh from the stove, soothed her tired body like nothing else, and the sensation was blissful. She scrubbed away the dirt and grime from her body with the slimy lard soap they had made last fall, relishing in the feeling of being _clean._ She washed her hair and rinsed it out, combing it with her fingers to get the rest of the knots out.

Long after the water had grown cold, Annabeth reluctantly got out of the tub, grabbing a towel she had hung on the back of the chair. After drying off, she pulled on her freshly-washed shift and a thick robe.

Sitting down, she took a small bottle of rose-water her father had gotten her and worked it through her hair, before drying her long locks with a piece of soft cloth. She read a book for an hour or so, letting her curls shrink into spirals, before gathering them into a satin mobcap.

She got into her bed, the coverlets freshly washed after her illness, before realizing she didn't have her thick winter blanket. It was still quite chilly, especially after being wet, and Annabeth was shivering.

She knew Percy's room had a wardrobe with extra quilts in it, so she pulled her robe tight around her shoulders, grabbed the flickering candle, and tiptoed through the quiet halls of the Chase's home. It was about ten o'clock at night, but she knew Percy was probably still at the village tavern.

Within moments, she had found her blanket in the wardrobe, and was about to exit Percy's room before catching sight of an opened letter on Percy's vanity. She hesitated, torn between curiosity and knowing she shouldn't look at Percy's private letters.

 _It might be something useful,_ she tried to reason with herself. _Maybe he forgot to tell me. I should check, just in case._

She crossed the room swiftly and held the letter nearer to the candle, trying to push down her guilty feelings. She checked the left corner first; it was dated January 13th, so he had received it over three weeks before.

 _Dearest Percy,_ it began. Annabeth frowned. It must be from someone close to him; hardly anyone called him anything besides Perseus or Officer Jackson.

 _I have missed you so much since you went to the colonies. I can hardly bear going to all the balls and parties my father holds without you! Your entertainment was invaluable during those boring things, even if your dancing was always terrible._

 _Now, onto my news. I can hardly write, I am so overjoyed with what has happened. My father has decided to move temporarily to the colonies for business opportunities, and he will be bringing Mother and me along with him! You are living in Boston now, correct? That is where he plans to go! By the time you have received this letter, we will be on a ship heading to Boston. My father says we will probably arrive around the end of February. I am anticipating seeing you again greatly._

 _Your mother sends her love, and tells you to remember to be careful. I give you my love as well, and will be seeing you soon –_

 _Yours always,_

 _Rachel_

Just as her eyes grazed the closing, Percy's door opened behind her, and her tense nerves caused her to jump.

She whirled around, seeing Percy at the door looking bewildered. "Annabeth? What are you doing in here?"

"I, uh, was getting my quilt from the wardrobe," Annabeth told him truthfully, holding up her quilt.

His betrayed look cut her to the core. "Then why are you standing at my desk and holding a letter – " he crossed the room quickly and snatched it out of her hands, "that is very _clearly_ mine?"

Annabeth bit her lip guiltily. "I – I thought it might have information in it," she told him. "And maybe you had forgotten to tell me, so I – "

"You thought it was alright to just go and read my _private_ letter?" Percy asked her incredulously. "You seriously thought I wouldn't have told you if I had received information? Annabeth – " he turned away, hand going to the back of his neck in frustration.

Annabeth spread her hands indignantly. "Percy, I'm sorry for reading your letter, but why didn't you _tell_ me that your _friend,_ Rachel, was coming to the colonies? Do I not deserve to know?"

"No!" Percy said immediately, then visibly winced an backtracked. "I mean – I got the letter soon after you got sick, and then there was never a good time – "

"That's not an _excuse,_ Percy," Annabeth argued.

"Since when are you _entitled_ to know all my personal information, Annabeth?" he answered hotly, and all of Annabeth's thought processes froze.

Why _did_ she care so much?

She wracked her brain, knowing that logically, there _was_ a reason she felt betrayed by not being told Percy's special friend was coming to the colonies.

"Because – because I'm you _friend,_ Percy," she told him. Even to her own ears it felt like a lame excuse.

He bit his lip. "Yes, you are my best friend, but you don't have to know everything, Annabeth. I would have told you in my own time."

"I – I'm sorry, Percy," Annabeth mumbled, feeling humiliated, guilty, and for some reason, _angry,_ all at the same time. Before her pride was hurt too much, she added, "I – I probably should be getting to bed. Goodnight." She exited the room without waiting for a reply.

Back in her own room, though, she sagged against the wall, head swirling. On one hand, she did feel betrayed that Percy hadn't told her about whoever this _Rachel_ person was; in all their months of being friends, she had never once come up in a single conversation, which Annabeth thought was a little strange. On the other hand, the more logical side of her firmly said that snooping in Percy's personal items was wrong and invasive, besides taking advantage of their friendship.

Annabeth sighed deeply, her hands coming up to rub away a throbbing headache. It was all too complicated. She'd figure it out in the morning.

When she woke up, though, Percy was a bit cooler during breakfast. Afterword, though, he invited her to the wharf where the ships came in.

Annabeth agreed reluctantly. Although she didn't want to meet Rachel, she also wanted to mend her friendship with Percy as soon as possible.

They were almost out the door when Percy saw she didn't have her shawl. Although she protested, her insisted on going back inside and getting it for her. She felt a small prick of satisfaction that he did, indeed, still care for her just as much as before – and then wondered why she thought he wouldn't.

They walked to the wharf silently, ignoring the crowds of people out in the market on the cold winter day. The remaining snow and ice crunched under their boots, and even attempts at small talk were abandoned.

Annabeth was miserable. Even their fight back at her grandparents' house, in September, hadn't been like this – ignoring each other even when in their company. It felt wrong and awkward, everything Annabeth knew their friendship wasn't.

Finally they reached the bustling harbor. A ship had just come in, and with a sinking heart, Annabeth scanned the crowd for a rich-looking young lady.

"She – uh, has red hair," Percy said quietly, scuffing his feet on the street. "Curlier than yours."

Annabeth nodded silently. Together they skimmed the busy, eyes sliding over sailors and passengers.

"There she is," Percy said suddenly, and without waiting for her pushed his way through the crowd, bright red officer's coat allowing him to pass. "Rachel!" he called. "Over here!"

Annabeth followed, heart sinking. The first thought she had as the infamous Rachel Elizabeth Dare was that she was _pretty._ Unfairly so.

She had bright red, curly hair pulled into an untidy updo, wispy curls flying around her pale, slim face. She had freckles on her white cheeks and bright green eyes framed with thick black eyelashes, delicate auburn eyebrows. She wore a satin green dress that matched her eyes, and somehow had managed to keep it clean on the muddy wharf. A pale pink woolen cloak swung around her slender shoulders, and her whole demeanor brightened when she saw Percy.

"Percy!" she called, and like Annabeth had done so many times, launched herself into Percy's waiting arms without a thought to what other people thought.

Annabeth fought the wave of jealousy of seeing someone else in Percy's arms and wondered at herself. _Percy's my friend! A very good friend, and 'tis perfectly fine if he has others. It's not any of my business._

But when Rachel turned to her, pale cheeks flushed with pleasure, bright smile in place, Annabeth could only offer a tight grimace of a smile in return. She could see Percy behind her, giving her a look, but she couldn't help herself.

"And who is this, Percy?" Rachel asked, voice bright and chirpy as a robin. Annabeth hated it.

"This is my friend, Annabeth Chase," he told her. "I am boarding with the Chase's family."

"Oh, how lovely!" Rachel gushed, freckles seeming to dance across her cheeks. "You are so pretty. I wish my hair would curl like yours – is it natural?" Without waiting for a reply, she went on, "I would love to get to know you better."

"Uh, yes," Annabeth said, remembering her manners. "Likewise, I'm sure." Although she knew that the sarcasm had gone over Rachel's head, she also knew Percy knew exactly what she meant. His features hardened at her, and Annabeth tried not to cringe under his look.

Rachel broke the slightly awkward silence by turning to Percy. "My parents said that I could see where you live, before I follow them to the house Father is renting. Shall we, Annabeth?" she added, offering her arm to Annabeth.

Annabeth hesitated for just a second, not knowing what to do with this pretty, sweet creature who was everything opposite to what she was expecting. Thinking her hesitation to be haughtiness, Percy took Rachel's arm instead, and gave Annabeth a significant look.

The two walked on ahead, laughing and reminiscing as they crunched through the snow, while Annabeth trudged miserably behind them.

This would be a _long_ visit.

 **And that's it! Yes, I'm sorry for making Percabeth fight, but I promise it will eventually work out. And RED is one of my favorite characters, so it will be fun to add her into this universe.**

 **Thanks to my amazing Helena (GollyGeeWhiz), who edited this even though she was on vacation and caught all my many typos! She is amazing. Check out her story _Childhood_ because it's fantastic and Percabeth-y. 'Nuff said. ****On the same lines, my awesome friend Mia (herecomesthepun) is finishing up her incredible Percabeth story iSpy - if you haven't read it already I recommend it highly!**

 **On Pinterest, Helena, Mia, and I have started moodboards for all three of our Percabeth stories - my username is rachel_kate328, and you can find them on my profile, as well as Helena's and Mia's. The boards are mostly aesthetic because aesthetics are my guilty pleasure *cough cough* and they're super helpful for visualizing characters, places, etc., so we're having a lot of fun adding pins. If you have an account and would like to send any of us pins you think would fit the story, please do! I know we'd love any feedback we can get.**

 **And that's all for this way-too-long author's note. Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a review! :)**

 **WM**


	14. Fights and Fury

**Hey guys! Happy Saturday :) I will be at camp all next week, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update next week. The rest of July and the first half of August will be a bit iffy since I'll be on vacation, but I'll do my best! Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

It all started with Rachel's sketchbook.

The first few days after Rachel Dare arrived were both good and bad. Although Percy was still a bit angry at Annabeth for invading his privacy and reading his letter without asking, he understood her wish to have been told about his friend back in England _before_ the day of her arrival.

He tried talking to her on four separate occasions, but she pointedly ignored both him and Rachel. Even while living in the same house, she magically disappeared whenever he came in the room, and when Rachel came over she didn't even make an appearance to begin with.

Percy was angry and a bit hurt at her seemingly unfounded pettiness, but he eventually just gave up. Annabeth was acting like a child, and until she decided to start being civil to him again, he would just spend time with Rachel instead.

It was a good plan – in theory.

Within days of her arrival, it became clear that she was hiding something. The average person, perhaps, might not have noticed, but after months of spying Percy had become accustomed to studying other people body language and hidden meanings between words. In fact, most people were open books – all except Annabeth, whom he had never had success on if he tried his hardest, and now, apparently, Rachel.

He met with her father often; although perhaps often misguided in his desires for his daughter and his country, he was a good man. In fact, he had encouraged Percy to join the Royal Army, back in England.

One day as they were conversing, Mr. Dare mentioned something about Rachel being with Percy the day before.

"What?" Percy asked, confused. He hadn't seen Rachel in a few days.

Mr. Dare looked surprised. "Why, she said she was going to the Chase's home yesterday and was gone almost all afternoon."

"Oh, uh, yes. I had forgotten," Percy answered clumsily, covering for Rachel even though he had no idea why or where she really had been.

Mr. Dare looked skeptical, but the conversation continued, and the matter was forgotten, at least by Mr. Dare. Percy, however, tucked it away in his mind.

It was only the first sign that Rachel was hiding something.

The second came from her sketchbook.

He knew even back in England that Rachel was an artist. When they were children they would go to the wharf, Percy to skip stones in the rough grey waters, and Rachel to sketch. Her drawings had been amazing, and Percy knew she had simply gotten more skilled with time.

The problem was, whenever he asked to look at her sketchbook, she'd flush slightly, or gently turn away, or gracefully change the subject. Even when she wasn't using the notebook, it was carefully tucked away under her arm or hidden from prying eyes.

While Percy would have understood if she was just shy about sharing her drawings or something similar, he had known Rachel for most of his life. She had never been one to be shy, nor to turn away from people looking at her art.

Which left one option – she didn't want _him_ looking at her sketches.

And that both confused him and added to his overwhelming curiosity.

On one hand, he was still angry at Annabeth for looking at his private things without asking – but on the other, he could certainly understand what had prompted her to do so. The question of what was in his friend's mysterious book nagged at him every time he was with her.

Finally, he got his chance. He and Rachel were at the Chase's house in the parlor, sitting next to the warm fire. It was the beginning of March, and the cold weather had yet to leave. Snowdrifts were piled up against doors, and almost every night Percy would wake another few inches of snow to replace what had melted during the slightly warmer days.

"I just think that if my parents would stop _nagging_ me about becoming a proper young lady, then maybe I would even consider acting like one. 'Tis as though every time my mother scolds me, I simply want to continue acting in a way that will displease her." Rachel was gesturing wildly, the frizzy curls tied behind her waving. "Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yes, I understand what you mean," Percy answered his friend thoughtfully. It amazed him sometimes, how similar Rachel and Annabeth were. If Annabeth ever decided to actually try to get to _know_ Rachel, he knew they would probably be extremely good friends.

 _Why_ she continued to ignore both of them was beyond his understanding; it had been almost a week, and they had exchanged perhaps a few dozen words.

And, lord, it _hurt._ After having Annabeth by his side, a constant companion who cared about him and teased him and _understood_ him in the way only the way that she could, for so long – it felt like a part of him was missing.

Deep down, he knew he was trying to fill her absent presence with Rachel. It was true; the funny, energetic redhead had been one of his best friends for most of his childhood, and he certainly enjoyed spending time with her, but… she just wasn't Annabeth.

Though he had been racking his brain for over a week, he still had no idea how to fix their broken friendship.

"Percy?" Rachel asked him curiously, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yes," he said quickly, stuttering a bit. "I just – " He couldn't tell her what he was thinking about. "I think I'm just growing weary," he finally said, nodding to the window, where growing night was evident in the snow-covered landscape.

"Would you like me to get us some more tea?" Rachel inquired concernedly. Her big green eyes were wide with sweet concern, pale auburn eyebrows scrunched together. Percy hated lying to his friend.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you," he answered absentmindedly.

Rachel got to her feet, looking at him fondly. "You're welcome." She quickly exited the parlor, promising to return soon.

Percy nearly lost himself in thought again before catching sight of Rachel's sketchbook. She had left it on the horsehair sofa, unprotected.

For a moment, Percy felt a surge of guilt. _Isn't this what you were so angry at Annabeth for?_ a little voice in the back of his head asked him knowingly.

Percy brushed it away. _This isn't the same thing at all,_ he told it impatiently, and grabbed the sketchbook before it could inquire just _how_ this situation was different.

He cracked it open, smelling the rich scent of paper and paint mixed before he saw it. The first painting was of the harbor, back in England, and Percy traced his finger over it in awe. She had gotten much better than the last time he had watched her paint. The grey-blue waves crashed onto the waterfront, and rays of sunlight filtered through dull grey clouds above the water. He could almost hear the seagulls crying and feel the salty breeze upon his face.

He turned the page. A delicate painting of a sunflower met his eyes, bright yellow and white mixing with the rich summer-green of the field behind it. Bright blue skies hung cheerfully ahead, huge, fluffy clouds billowing above the field.

In awe, Percy flipped through the book; page after page of incredible paintings greeted him, and he marveled at Rachel's skill and talent.

As he was nearing the end of the book, though, he found a page that had no paint on it, and he stopped, confused. Only a few small ink drawings had found their way, and he squinted, trying to make out the tiny lettering.

 _King… George,_ he read. The small image was of a cartoon version of King George, his belly fat and eyes wild, waving to one of his servants. The next one was of him snoring comically in a large bathtub, feet sticking out of the water and a huge plate of food remains next to it. The next image showed the king as a giant, stomping on the colonies, as much smaller figures crouched in terror, handing over coins.

The realization hit him like a brick. _Rachel is making fun of the king of England._

No wonder she had protected this book so carefully from him, an officer in the Royal Army! He could hardly believe it. Her parents were wealthy Loyalists, but he had known for years that Rachel had never gotten along well with them. Her coming to the colonies, her random disappearances, the guarding of the sketchbook, the feeling that she was hiding something- knowing that she, at least, didn't approve of their king – if not being a full-out Patriot – made everything fit together.

A smooth voice broke into his thoughts, and he jumped. "So you are perfectly fine with going through other people's things, but no one else can ever touch yours?"

He looked up, heart sinking. Annabeth leaned against the doorframe casually, twisting a long golden curl like a cat waiting for her prey. Her grey eyes were sharp as they passed over him, and he cringed under the look of veiled pain before they turned cold as ice again.

"It's – it's nothing," Percy said quickly, jumping up from the couch and dropping the sketchbook like it burned him. "I mean, I was just looking for information – " he stopped abruptly, realizing he was quoting Annabeth from a week ago almost word-for-word.

Annabeth crossed the room, her skirts swishing. "Is that Rachel's?" she asked, and Percy had never heard such harsh, masked bitterness before like he did in her voice just then.

He nodded mutely. "But – Annabeth – " he struggled to find the words. He knew without a doubt that he could trust Annabeth to keep a secret, no matter how much she disliked the person in question; the query was, should he tell her? Or was it Rachel's secret to keep?

To be fair, Rachel hadn't even _told_ him. He had done exactly what he had condemned Annabeth for.

He took a deep breath, and opened the sketchbook again. "Look."

She reluctantly moved closer to him to look over his shoulder, and Percy caught the faint scent of rosewater as her silky curls swished near his face. He turned away, unnerved by the way it caused his shoulders to shake slightly.

After a few breathless seconds, Annabeth spoke. "She's a Patriot, too." It wasn't even a question.

Percy nodded, pressing his lips together.

She straightened stiffly. "Well, what are you going to do about it? Since she doesn't even _know_ you're looking through her sketchbook," she said, the accusation and hurt in her voice hard to miss.

"I – I don't know," Percy admitted, closing the sketchbook awkwardly. "I – I guess I'll talk to her about it. And then – maybe tell Paul Revere?"

He could see her tense. "And what then?"

"Well, since _you_ won't even talk to me, maybe I can work with her instead," he burst out. As he saw the hurt and confusion flash across Annabeth's features, he regretted his words immediately, but it was too late.

" _You're_ the one who kept secrets from me, got angry at me for looking at your letter, and then did the exact same thing to your supposed _friend,_ " she said, the frigid, controlled anger in her voice enough to freeze all of Boston. "I am not the one who won't talk, _Perseus._ "

He winced, but hid it. "Well – alright, I'm sorry. Do you understand me? I'm _sorry_ , Annabeth. But this doesn't change things."

"Doesn't change _what?"_ Annabeth cried, throwing her arms apart. "Doesn't change the fact that we were partners? Doesn't change the fact that we were best – that we were _friends_?"

"No! I mean – " Percy closed his eyes. "I think – maybe we should stop. Stop working together, just take a break from being – friends." Everything in him recoiled at his words; Annabeth was his _best friend._ And he was letting her go over a stupid argument.

 _Not for good,_ he told himself. _I couldn't lose her for good. It would hurt too much. I – oh, lord, I love –_

"All right." Annabeth crossed her arms, and Percy could hear her voice crack. Just a bit – just enough for him to hear. She tilted her chin up a notch, how she always did when she was putting on a mask in front of someone – and something inside Percy broke _._ He wanted to jump up and fold her in his arms, promising to never hurt her again.

But he was stubborn, too.

"All right," Annabeth repeated, her voice unsteady. "But you know what, Percy? If you think _Rachel_ can be a better partner than me, let her be. I don't _need_ you. I can do just fine on my own."

He saw a drop of blood fall drip down her clenched fist and onto the expensive rug.

He stood up, ignoring the pain, ignoring the fact that he was falling apart. "All right. I – I don't need you either. I'll work with Rachel, and I'll tell the major and Paul Revere that – that you'll be fine on your own."

She nodded jerkily, once, twice – then turned and left the room. At the doorway she hesitated, for just a second – turned back, their gaze met –

 _Come back. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry._

And then she turned around again, the sound of her light footsteps receding from his ears. He felt for the edge of the sofa, suddenly feeling inexplicably lightheaded.

At that moment, Rachel reentered the parlor, freckled cheeks flushed, bright smile in place. "I'm sorry it took me a while, Hazel was busy – Percy, are you alright?" She looked at him strangely. "I just saw Annabeth leaving, and I think – I think she was crying. Did something happen between you two?" Her bright green eyes gazed at him questioningly, and Percy knew he had to answer.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _She's gone. I've lost her – I've lost my best friend – I've lost my world._

"No," he said hollowly. "We're fine."

 _Everything is fine._

•

Two weeks later, not much had changed. He had talked to Rachel; she was surprised and a bit hurt that he had gone through her sketchbook without her permission, but after he explained, she was excited and more than willing to help him gather tidbits of information for the Patriots.

If only it were that easy to earn Annabeth's forgiveness.

They hadn't spoken at all since the argument, and Percy was surprised at how much it _hurt._ He felt like a piece of him was missing; Rachel, with her bright smile and sparkling eyes, tried to fill the gap, but even she seemed to know something was wrong.

One night, after she stayed late at the Chase's house reading by the fire together, he walked Rachel to the door. She was quietly talking about something or other, but Percy's mind wasn't in it.

She seemed to notice. "What's wrong, Percy?" she asked, pausing in her dialogue.

Percy sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don't know," he lied. "Probably just exhausted, and stressed. Major Pitcairn – "

"Ah, yes." Rachel nodded. Percy had taken her a few days ago to meet him. The major had asked Percy privately, with a knowing glint in his eye, what had happened to Annabeth. Percy admitted that they were arguing, and the major nodded, muttering something about young love.

Percy wished it was nothing but a lover's quarrel.

"It will get better, Percy," Rachel assured him quietly. Percy felt incredibly guilty, not telling her the truth. She was a good friend, loyal to the core, and sweet, and kind, and –

Suddenly she raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Percy froze, unsure of what to do. A rush of thoughts hit him, first and foremost being _what the hell,_ but within a second he unfroze and kissed her back. It felt almost – _good,_ forgetting all his confusing feelings for Annabeth, forgetting everything but Rachel's lips on his.

Of course, Fate made him pay dearly for the fleeting moment of bliss.

"Goodnight, Percy," Rachel whispered, eyes shining. He nodded, giving her a small, bashful smile. She smiled back, slipping out the door quietly, and Percy shut it behind her.

He turned, and halted again.

Annabeth was frozen on the stairway.

Percy looked away first. "I – uh – "

Annabeth unfroze, hurrying down the rest of the stairs. "I – I don't care." She paused and turned towards him again, voice cracking. "I _don't._ "

"All – all right," Percy said woodenly.

"Well – " Annabeth seemed to be fumbling for words. She gave up and spun around, vanishing towards the parlor.

It wasn't any of her business. She had made her stance clear before.

 _But still._

"Annabeth," he called quietly. She turned around again, her form and features in the dim lighting looking small and vulnerable. He swallowed. "I – I truly am sorry. Please, _please,_ can we stop arguing and just – " he waved his hands around, "figure this out?"

For a moment, he could see Annabeth's grey eyes softening. "I – " she began, before her eyes fell to the ground by Percy's feet. "What's that?"

"Oh, uh…" Percy bent down. "It's one of Rachel's handkerchiefs, I'll bring it to her in the morning," he fumbled. "But Annabeth…"

Again, he was too late. Her sharp features had hardened again, mouth in a firm line, shoulders tense. Her eyes were cold as she told him, "You have _Rachel._ " She turned, then paused and looked back. "You don't need me, remember?" She spun around and disappeared into the darkness.

He was halfway up the stairs before he heard her quiet, ragged sobs from the parlor.

Yes, Fate had made him pay dearly, indeed.

 **And that's that! Sorry for making Percabeth fight (not sorry actually XD). This was kind of a filler chap, but the next one should be getting some more war action and stuff. As always, thank you to the lovely Helena for editing this thing for me, even while on vacation! Also, to Mia for having long, ranting discussions about how amazing The Perks of Being a Wallflower is and how awful the PJO movies are. Love both you guys! :)**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review! :)**

 **WM**


	15. Secrets to Keep

**HELLO MY FRIENDS I AM SO SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG I AM A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING. I was at camp for two weeks and then within 24 hours of getting home, I left with my family for our annual vacation, during which I was gone three weeks. I just got home last Sunday, and guess what? School starts in about... 43ish hours for me. Yayyy. ._. BUT I have a chapter for you guys and I promise the story will be picking up the pace soon! Hopefully we should be getting back to our schedule of every Saturday. :)**

 **And now, onto the story! :)**

 _April 2_ _nd_ _, 1775_

Of course, of _course_ Annabeth realized she was in love with Percy Jackson while he was courting someone else.

Because why would it happen any other way?

She fumed to herself as she stormed down the busy wharf front. Venders called and housewives shrieked; children raced around playing tag, and stray dogs fought over fallen bits of food. The wharf was so loud and chaotic that it was the perfect place for Annabeth to figure out her feelings.

Or, you know. Just avoid them in general.

It was just so _hard._ Rachel had _kissed_ Percy – something that could easily cause a scandal if Annabeth decided to share it with anyone, but her own pride prevented her from doing so. Percy had been _hers,_ before Rachel had come, and now –

And now he was someone else's.

It wasn't even so much that Percy was courting Rachel now; it was the fact that he had promised Annabeth he would always be there for her. They had been best friends and partners for almost a year, and not being able to spend time with him, to tell him secrets, to giggle after the visits with Major Pitcairn – it hurt more than Annabeth could fathom.

Of course, it didn't help the irrational surge of jealousy every time Annabeth thought about that kiss she had witnessed. Before their argument and Rachel's arrival, she and Percy had been – well, _friends._ There was no reason for jealousy to physically spike her heart every time she pictured Rachel on her tiptoes, kissing her friend.

It wasn't really hard to figure out that her feelings were – well, less than platonic for her former best friend.

Deep in her thoughts, Annabeth didn't realize she was about to crash into someone until she felt a pair of steady hands on her shoulders. "Slow down there, 'Beth," someone's voice broke into her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Luke!" Annabeth gasped, taking a surprised step back before throwing her arms around him. "What are you doing here?" Ever since Luke had moved from the Chase's house, his visits had become scarce. Annabeth hadn't realized how much she'd missed her friend until his arms tightened around her in a secure embrace.

"I was just getting some food for my supper tonight," he explained as they pulled apart. "Thalia will be there, and I – " he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted it to be perfect. For her."

Annabeth laughed delightedly, realizing that it was the first time she'd laughed in days. "Oh Luke, when will you just propose to her already?"

He took her arm gently, chuckling as they began walking down the cobblestone street together. They turned, avoiding the cluster of small children playing hopscotch. "Well, she's just – she's _Thalia_. Besides you, she's the most independent woman I know, and 'tis a bit intimidating." He looked nervous. "Do you even think she would accept?"

Annabeth felt a surge of pride at Luke calling her an independent woman, instead of the little girl he had grown up with. "You've only been courting for almost _two_ _years_ ," she answered teasingly. "I have seen you two together, and you both always look so happy _._ I don't think for even a minute would Thalia refuse if you asked her to marry you."

Luke smiled, relief sweeping over his chiseled features. He opened his mouth to reply before shutting it again in a firm line.

"Luke?" Annabeth questioned, brow furrowing. "What's wrong –" Suddenly she saw where Luke's glare was pointed, and her own face wrinkled into a frown.

Percy and Rachel were walking towards them, completely involved in their own little world. Rachel was holding Percy's arm, laughing about something, her wild red curls waving in the salty breeze. Percy looked dignified and handsome in his red officer's coat beside her, but his face betrayed a dorky grin at Rachel's antics. Annabeth felt a surge of sadness – had she and Percy ever looked that carefree?

They were only a few feet away when Percy stopped, finally noticing Annabeth and Luke.

"Hello," Luke said stiffly.

"Good afternoon, Luke," Percy answered, just as stiffly. He inclined a cold nod in her direction. "Annabeth."

Annabeth pushed down her feelings and lifted her chin a notch. "Officer Jackson." She felt a twinge of satisfaction as she saw him wince.

"Uh, Rachel, this is Luke Castellan, one of _Miss Chase's_ friends," he said, turning to his fair companion.

Rachel offered a bright smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castellan," she said with a sweet curtsy. "And good to see you, Annabeth."

Annabeth tried not to notice the delicate lace on Rachel's pale green dress, and the expensive trimmings on the matching hat. She glanced down slightly self-consciously at her faded pink frock, remembering how she had worn it at her grandparents' house last summer, right before she had gotten sick.

How things had changed since then!

"Good to see you too," she answered with as much hidden venom in her voice as she could muster.

Before the exchange could get any more awkward, Luke turned to Annabeth. "Would you like to come to dinner with me tonight?" he asked quickly.

Annabeth bobbed her head. "That would be lovely, thank you." She saw Percy's jaw tighten out of the corner of her eye. "Well, we should probably be on our way," she said sweetly. "Good day!"

"What the _hell_ was that about?" Luke demanded once they were out of earshot. "It was bad enough when I didn't like him, but you were as cold as ice, Annabeth!"

Annabeth winced, scuffing the toe of her worn leather boot against a cobblestone. "We had a – falling out," she admitted. "I believe he is now courting Rachel, and we – we are no longer friends." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Luke turned to her, his icy blue eyes soft in the way they were only around her and Thalia. "I'm sorry. I – I know how much he meant to you."

Annabeth smiled tightly. "Thank you, Luke." They walked in silence for a bit before Annabeth spoke up again. "Did you mean it when you asked me to join you for supper tonight, or was that just to have an excuse to leave?"

"Oh! I meant it," Luke answered quickly. "Thalia and I haven't seen you much of late, and I'm sure we would both love your company for tonight."

Annabeth grinned up at her friend, feeling better than she had in weeks. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said, teasing. "I am sure I shall enjoy your company as well."

"Just a bit?" Luke answered, just as teasingly.

Annabeth smiled, holding his arm tighter. "Just a bit."

•

And so Annabeth slipped back into an easy routine. The officers had little to do around Boston, so Percy was often at the Chases' house, and therefore Rachel was often at their house. Because of this, Annabeth slipped away as much as possible, spending every second she could away from home.

It wasn't so much that she _disliked_ Rachel, she realized during a walk in the spring sunshine one morning. In fact, if Percy were out of the picture, she knew they would probably be good friends. But she couldn't help feeling like Rachel had stolen Percy from her, however irrational it was. Rachel and Percy could share so many inside jokes, memories of places they had visited and things they had done back in England – Annabeth knew that even if she made an effort to spend time with the couple, she would simply be the third wheel.

Not that it was _technically_ any different from spending time with Luke and Thalia, but still.

She spent as much time with her old friends as she could, given the circumstances. Thalia worked as a governess for a rich Loyalist's young children, and Luke had started up his own mercantile. Mr. Chase had had to hire another apprentice to run his, but he had given his blessing in Luke's endeavors.

Between helping out at Luke's new shop, accompanying Thalia to assist with the children, and helping Luke decorate and furnish the newly-finished house, Annabeth was kept busy every day.

Her parents fretted a bit at her being gone from dawn to dusk, but when she told her father that she and Percy had had a falling out, he nodded, understanding, and let her go. She usually had supper at Luke's house, sometimes even spending the night in the guest room with Thalia.

It was – all right. Not how she wished her life was, but this was it now. She loved Luke and Thalia, looking up to them both as friends and mentors. They had helped raise her, constantly looking after her and including her as a child, and whatever she could do to help them now, she would.

Especially if it meant not having to see Percy and Rachel constantly together.

One night as she and Thalia were washing the dishes after supper at Luke's house, he pulled her aside. "May I talk to you for a second?"

Annabeth nodded, surprised. "Certainly." Drying her hands on a dishcloth, she told Thalia, "I'll be back shortly," and followed Luke.

"I'm planning on asking Thalia to marry me," Luke began, but was cut off by Annabeth's squeal.

" _Finally,_ you bonehead!" she squeaked, throwing her arms around him in excitement.

Luke shushed her, chuckling. "Be quiet, 'beth. _Yes,_ I'm proposing. I know a lot of young men simply ask, but – I want this to be special. We have been courting for a very long time, much longer than normal, and – "

"Yes, yes, I know," Annabeth said impatiently. "You have to do this _right._ I'll help."

Luke looked relieved. "That's what I was about to ask," he admitted with a shy grin. "I just – I don't even know where to start."

"How soon are you planning?" Annabeth asked, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"As soon as possible?" Luke shrugged. "I don't even know. What do you think?"

"How about tomorrow?" Annabeth suggested, and Luke choked.

" _Tomorrow?_ "

"Oh, hush," Annabeth said bossily. "Alright, so I'll leave the shop early to come here and make supper tomorrow. It'll be all ready by the time you and Thalia get here, which means you will both finish eating before 'tis dark out. By that time of evening, the wharf will be quiet, and you can go for a walk along the shore."

"I am a bit disconcerted that you have this planned out to such detail," Luke said dryly.

Annabeth placed a finger over his lips, shushing him again. "Now, you can ask her while on the walk, and then come back and I'll have dessert or tea or something waiting." She grinned up at him, excitement beaming in her smile. "Shall that be all?"

Luke grumbled something about over-eagerness, but Annabeth pretended not to hear. " _Yes_ , Luke, you're _welcome_ for finally helping you ask your eventual wife to marry you. It was my pleasure."

A grin broke through Luke's face. "Thank you, 'beth," he sighed, and started to reach for her hand, before changing his mind and wrapping her in a hug.

Annabeth snuggled closer in her friend's arms. "You're _welcome,_ " she teased. "Now, you better not mess this up."

"I'll try not to," Luke promised, kissing her forehead. "I'll try not to."

•

 _April 14_ _th_ _, 1775_

Annabeth literally couldn't stop smiling.

Her two best friends were finally, _finally,_ engaged. Every single detail of the proposal she had helped Luke plan had worked beautifully, and she felt a surge of pride at the thanks Luke had expressed as the three of them sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea and talking excitedly about the future.

She relived the memory of Thalia blushing, actually _blushing_ – something she didn't remember her friend doing in all the years she had known her. Between Luke's shy grin and Thalia's flushed cheeks when they returned, it had been easy enough to guess what had transpired.

Now she walked quickly along the dark wharf, knowing she was late. Annabeth felt a quick surge of sadness, knowing that her parents had probably not even noticed her absence. If she and Percy were still friends, he probably would have been worried and stayed up for her, but now? Annabeth guessed that he, too, had failed to notice… or care.

She took quick steps, along the cobblestones, pulling her cloak closer against the still-chilly night air. The streets were dark, empty, and deserted. Annabeth shivered and walked faster.

Suddenly she stopped, hearing low voices and seeing the flickering of a lamp around the corner of a small alleyway. Instincts kicking in, she hurriedly ducked behind a couple of wooden crates just as two figures turned the corner.

" – king wishes the harbor to be closed, to punish these upstart young rebels for their impudence during that scandal with the tea they had," she heard one man say quietly. "What do they call it nowadays – the Boston Tea Party?"

Annabeth started. She _knew_ that voice! It was one of the other officers she and Percy had run into during their days as partners. Officer Octavian was a thin, malicious fellow, stubborn and cruel, one of the men who would whistle crudely at women in the tavern.

What he was saying, however, was new information; Annabeth knew Paul Revere hadn't said anything about knowing the harbor was closing.

Her only problem was that the silversmith had left town a few days earlier.

She quieted her thoughts in order to listen to the other man's response. "Are you sure? What about the Loyalists in this city? Are they to suffer along with the rebels?"

"Apparently," Octavian sneered. "Everyone in the city is to be cut off." The men continued on, leaving Annabeth behind the crates, holding her breath.

After they were gone, she let out a long breath and stood up. How could this be happening? She didn't know when the harbor was to be closed, but she also had no one to go to with this information.

 _Except –_

Except Percy.

Annabeth bit her lip. Everything in her screamed to not go to Percy, to not torture herself with the memories of them being partners, knowing everything about each other. Now she was using him as a last resort in desperate times, and it _hurt._

But she knew she had no choice.

Within moments, she had reached the large Chase home. She opened the heavy front door, wincing as it creaked, and took of her shoes and cloak. In the dark, she tried to feel her way down the hall, towards Percy's room.

Suddenly she ran into something. With a muffled cry of surprise, she fell backwards, only to have someone catch her and steady her gently.

"Are – are you alright?" she heard Percy ask. She closed her eyes slowly.

"Percy?" she tried, whispering. "I – I have something to tell you."

In the dim light, she saw his jaw tighten. After a moment's hesitation, he gestured towards the parlor. "Let's go in here to talk."

Annabeth stepped into the room quickly, the dying fire casting some light on Percy's face. He looked older, Annabeth noted; older and gaunt and weary. His green eyes had lost the sparkle she normally saw in them, and he rubbed the stubble on his face absentmindedly.

She steeled her heart. This wasn't about them.

Quickly she explained what she had heard in the alleyway. Honestly, she had no idea what Percy could even do, but she knew he had other connections as Neptune. Maybe he could spread the word, maybe even get the news to Paul Revere, who would know what to do.

"So – so can you tell someone?" she finished quietly, not daring to look up at his face.

His voice was hard as he turned away from her, and Annabeth felt the fragile ball of hope that had been growing inside of her shatter into a million pieces. "Tell someone?" he asked incredulously. "Annabeth, you're not honestly expecting me to _believe_ you?"

Annabeth felt a wave of both exhaustion and anger hit her. " _Believe_ me?" she repeated in disbelief. "Percy, do you expect me to just make something like this up?"

"At this point, I don't even know anymore," Percy said hotly. "How would I know if you're simply making this up to get attention, or to trick me into saying something that could betray me?"

Annabeth couldn't believe her ears. Even all the responses she had imagined Percy giving – ignoring her, anger, annoyance, irritation – not _believing_ her hadn't even crossed her mind.

"You mean – you mean you don't _trust_ me?" she asked again, disbelievingly. "After – after all we've been through together?"

Percy ran his hand through his hair, the simple gesture hurting Annabeth's heart with the desperate familiarity. "Seeing how you've been acting lately – "

"How _I've_ been acting?" Annabeth repeated, pushing back the tears suddenly gathering in her throat. " _You're_ the one who pushed me away, _you're_ the one who – "

"Let's not get into this again," Percy answered roughly, wearily. "My point is – I don't believe you, nor do I trust you. I'm going to bed." Without a second glance, he left the room, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.

Annabeth felt all the energy drain out of her body, and she collapsed onto the horsehair sofa, shoulders quaking with inaudible sobs. _How could this even be happening?_ she wondered. _How could someone I love –_ loved _– so much not even trust me anymore?_ Her mind flashed back to a time when Percy would have believed anything she told him, even if she said blueberries – his favorite food – were actually purple, not blue.

Well, maybe not that far. But almost.

And this wasn't even about just her. The whole city of Boston could suffer because of Percy's stubbornness.

She rubbed her eyes, brushing away her tears savagely. She would just have to do it herself. If she could help Boston, could help her _home,_ then she would.

Despite her exhaustion and the desperate longing to go upstairs and sleep, Annabeth got to her feet and lifted her chin. She carefully pulled on her boots, fastened her cloak again around her shoulders, and slipped silently out the front door.

Maybe she would fail, but at least she would be doing her best.

 **And that's it, folks! Thanks to Helena, as always, for basically keeping me alive during rough days, and ALSO for betaing this (because she's just that amazing). Love ya, girl! Check out her story Childhood - I promise you will not regret it.**

 **To one of the reviewers last time who commented on how Rachel and Percy kissing could be a scandal back in those times - yes, I understand that back then things were a lot more strict, especially concerning public affection, and _especially_ between unmarried couples. However, just from knowing Rachel, Percy, and Annabeth's characters from the book, I feel like they would be the kind of people to not really care about social constructs as much (especially Annabeth and Percy, but you guys will see an example of that later.) ;) I also think Annabeth's pride would have prevented her from telling anyone that Rachel and Percy kissed. Thanks for your question! **

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! Thoughts, questions? Tell me! I love to hear from you guys. :)**

 **See ya'll next week!**

 **WM**


	16. Arguments and Forgiveness

**Hey guys! I'm SO SORRY this took so long. I recently got a new computer, and in transferring my files, all my work on this chapter was lost. Then as I retyped it on my new computer (I hadn't gotten Word yet so I was using a free program) it deleted ALL MY WORK on this chapter. Twice. So basically I had a finished chapter twice and then it got deleted. And then because of school and stuff, I didn't have time to retype it until this week. So sorry for the delay, but here's your chapter :)**

 **Read, review, and enjoy! :)**

 _April 15_ _th_ _, 1775_

The moment he stepped outside the Chase's front door, a rotten tomato hit him on the arm, splattering against the red wool of his officer's uniform.

Percy blinked, still not 100% awake, let alone able to process _why_ on earth someone would throw a tomato at him.

 _Dammit, I just washed this coat,_ was his first thought.

His second was _What the hell?_

He looked around, trying to find the thrower of the rotten fruit. A young boy stood next to an older man, presumably his father. The boy wiped his hands on his jacket, and Percy figured he was a good a guess as any.

"Hey, you," he called, striding towards the man and the boy. "Did you throw this – " he gestured at the stain on his jacket, which was beginning to stink. " – at me?"

"Aye, I did, sir," the boy admitted proudly, his chin going up a notch. Percy guessed he couldn't have been more than nine years old, but his confusion stemmed from the fact that the boy's father wasn't doing anything about his son.

"You know, you could get in serious trouble for throwing things at officers of the King," he said as he reached the boy, getting down on one knee to face him.

The father placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "My son was just doing what he thought was best to you redcoats. After what the King's done now – " The older man broke off and spat at the ground.

Percy felt a spike of fear go down his spine, and he stood up, tomato forgotten. "What did the king do?" he demanded. "Answer me!"

The man pointed wordlessly down the street, and Percy suddenly realized he could hear shouting. He hurried down the street, the noise growing louder and louder until he reached the wharf.

He stopped running as he got to his destination, halting so fast he almost fell. The wharf was crowded with ships, small fishing boats and the like. A large crowd had gathered, and the din they were making could have been heard from miles around. Percy turned his head towards the water, straining his eyes to see, although with a sinking feeling of dread he already knew what he would find.

Sure enough; in the distance, British war ships – all proudly bearing the Union Jack – surrounded the wharf, blocking Boston completely from trade routes and fishing.

Percy stepped back, suddenly feeling dizzy. _Annabeth was right,_ he realized, waves of guilt rushing over him. _She was_ right, _and I didn't believe her._

 _This is all my fault. The city of Boston is suffering, all because I was being a stubborn ass, because I wouldn't listen to Annabeth._

He wanted to smack himself. How many times had she proven herself trustworthy, proven herself loyal to the Patriot cause? How many times had he shut her down that night, only a little over a day before?

It felt like years ago.

He saw a flash of long blond curls ahead of him in the crowd, and his heart sank. Annabeth stood with her back to him, slim shoulders stiff and arms crossed as she gazed silently at the mounting chaos in the streets and the British Navy, cutting off the harbor.

She turned her head back, as though she already knew Percy was there. Their eyes met, and he could hear her voice in his head, her grave expression speaking plain as day.

 _This is your fault._

He was the first one to look away, unable to stand in her presence any longer. She had tried to warn him. She had done her best.

And because he hadn't trusted her, trusted the person who, if you had asked him a few months ago, meant the world to him, the whole city was paying the price.

He turned away, back into the side street whence he came. If people saw him – well, right now was not a good time to be a British officer.

Percy sprinted back to the Chase's house and saddled Blackjack. He knew where he had to go.

•

"With all due respect, sir, why wasn't I _told_ about this?" Percy demanded as he paced the tent.

Major Pitcairn let out a heavy sigh, his face old and weary. "Officer Jackson, as I've told you before, very few people knew about the orders to close the harbor. In fact, it wasn't supposed to happen this early, but somehow the information got out, and we had to do it sooner than we planned. Not by much," he added quickly, seeing the look on Percy's face. "Probably one of those damn Patriot spies. Almost upset the whole thing – but apparently they found out very recently, and couldn't spread the word much."

As if Percy needed anything to intensify his regret. He could have _stopped_ this.

He took a second to compose himself. "Well, thank you for your time, Major," he said, bowing. "I'm – 'tis fortunate the plan went well, even if I was not aware of it."

"Thank you, Officer Jackson," Major Pitcairn answered, turning back to the pile of papers on his desk.

Percy left the tent, fuming inwardly at himself. He mounted Blackjack angrily, trotting out of camp and down the long road. Already the Neck was being blockaded; people couldn't get in or out of Boston.

The journey passed in a blur of thoughts, and he before he knew it he arrived at the Chase's house. He absentmindedly rubbed down Blackjack, before patting him on the nose and handing him a sugar cube. The spring day had grown warm, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as he led his horse to the stables.

After handing him over to the stable boy, Percy walked around the side of the large house, freezing in surprise as he rounded the corner. Annabeth was hurrying out of the house, dressed in a forest green riding habit with a matching tricorn hat, her blond curls pulled back from her face with a silky green ribbon. A large, closed-in carriage was at the door, trunks piled high above it, and the horses chomped at the bit.

"Goodbye," he heard Annabeth tell her parents as her father handed the coachman Annabeth's small trunk, which was added to the load on the roof.

He unfroze and strode towards the little group. "Where – where are you going?" he asked.

He saw Annabeth stiffen at his voice, but she turned around hesitantly. "Williamsburg, or more specifically, my grandparent's plantation. My parents thought it best for my health, and we found out that the Coles are traveling there today, so I am joining them."

"How long will you be gone?" Percy asked, fidgeting with a gold button on his jacket.

"Probably a few weeks," Annabeth replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Or until my parents think it best that I come back."

He nodded, hating how their conversation was so stunted. So formal. "Can – can I talk to you? In private," he added, seeing her confused expression.

She hesitated, but after saying goodbye to her parents and younger brothers one more time, she followed him to the other side of the carriage.

Her expression suddenly grew cooler once they were alone. "Talk quickly. The Coles are waiting."

"I'm sorry," Percy burst out. "I am so, so sorry, Annabeth. I was being a stupid, stubborn idiot. I should have listened to you. I should have _believed_ you. You have never given me any reason not to trust you, and I threw all of your trustworthiness away in one moment." He took a deep breath. "I am so sorry. Will – can you forgive me? And… and not just for this?" The unspoken rang in the air: _Can we be friends again?_

Annabeth spoke, and her voice wasn't angry. Just tired. "Percy… I tried. I tried _so hard._ After we fought that night, I went out again. I told Thalia, and then went to the silvershop, just to make completely sure that Paul Revere wasn't there. But he was gone. Then I crossed the city and tried to tell Dr. Franklin, at his printshop – but he was gone, too." He saw her shoulders slump in defeat. "As a woman in the Observers, I don't have many contacts. I had no one else to go to, no one else to tell."

 _Besides you._

"I – I just don't think we can. Be friends. Or anything else. If you don't trust me, even after all we've been through together… I think it's too late."

Percy nodded, the hollow feeling in his stomach spreading throughout his whole body. Deep down, though, he knew Annabeth was probably right. They had made so many mistakes, done so many things wrong, that their friendship was nearly irreparable.

He helped her into the carriage silently; she nodded her thanks. After shutting the door, he signaled to the driver to continue on.

Quietly, he watched as the carriage grew smaller and smaller down the street, eventually turning a corner and disappearing from sight.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly as he went inside. It had been an eternally long day, and it wasn't even noon.

•

"Percy? Percy!"

He grunted, shaking the sleep out of his eyes as a voice awoke him rudely. Stumbling out of bed, Percy opened the door, rubbing his eyes.

Outside Rachel stood tapping her foot impatiently. Her frizzy red curls were tied back in a bun, rebellious, wispy ringlets escaping the hold and flying around her face. Her green eyes were violent as she turned, stalking right up to him, and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Did you know?" she asked furiously. "Did you _know_ the harbor was going to be closed?"

"Um… Annabeth told me a few nights ago, but – I didn't believe her," Percy stuttered, his foggy brain unwilling to revisit the tormenting subject yet _again._

"Perseus Jackson, you are the bloodiest, most blithering _idiot –_ " Rachel started, before pausing. "Let's not do this here," she said, her tone lowering, but her face just as furious. "Put on your jacket and let's go outside."

Percy followed her petite figure, knowing her really didn't have a choice. Why were all the young women in his life so _violent_? Honestly.

He followed Rachel outside; she maneuvered her way down the streets, around shouting people and groups. Percy winced, hearing snippets of the conversations as he went by – _loyal subjects of the king! How could he do this – no one even knew it was happening – how was this not stopped –_

He focused on the ground, trying to ignore the angry shouts around him. This was _his_ fault.

Finally, Rachel reached a small alley and ducked down it, motioning for Percy to follow her. As soon as they were out of the busy street, the shouts and noises muted, she turned to him and began her rant.

"What were you even _thinking?_ How would you not trust Annabeth enough not to believe her, especially about something this important? Just because you two are fighting –"

Percy began to get angry. "No, Rachel, you know nothing about our situation, don't you dare –"

"No, I think I know pretty well what's going on," she scoffed angrily. "Let's see. You two were basically best friends before I came; you were just realizing you cared about her, as more than a companion, but you weren't sure of what she felt back. Then I came, and I messed it up, and she hates you now, and that's on me, I'm sorry, Percy – but this?" She gestured to the opening of the alley, where they could see people shouting and protesting, and the general chaos. "This is on _you._ "

"I already apologized, Rachel," Percy hissed. "Don't you think I would take it back if I could? I already told Annabeth I'm sorry, and she was like you – she didn't care. I messed this up, I made a huge mistake – dammit, Rachel, do you even know what I would do to take it back?" He sat down on an old crate, letting his head fall in his hands. " _Lord._ I would do _anything._ "

Her expression softened, if only a bit, as she sat down next to him. "But why?" she asked softly. "Why didn't you believe her, Percy?"

"I just –" he gestured helplessly. "I realized I don't trust her anymore. I know, 'tis completely idiotic, because we were such good friends, and I – I _loved_ her, Rachel." It felt refreshing, somehow; to say it aloud for the first time since that disastrous night after the governor's ball. "And then – you came, and –"

"I messed everything up," Rachel said quietly. "I'm sorry, Percy. I shouldn't have – I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No – it's not your fault," Percy sighed. "I kissed you back, Rachel. I wanted it, I did – but then I realized that you're not Annabeth. I just – I don't think we would ever be able to be together. Like that."

She nodded sadly, not looking at him as she played with a fiery red curl, wrapping it around her finger. "I fancied you, did you know that?" she asked suddenly.

Percy's head whipped up at this new information, his mind unable to process so many revelations in a day.

"I mean, back in England. For years," she clarified. "And then – and then you left, and I lost my best friend. But when we came to the colonies –" she laughed bitterly. "I thought it was the right time. I imagined that we could work, Percy. And maybe we might've – for a while. But not forever." Her freckled cheeks were pink with embarrassment, but her eyes were shining with tears.

He pursed his lips. "I know."

"I'm sorry. For kissing you, I mean," Rachel continued. "It was inappropriate, both timing and just – everything."

He chuckled. "True. But I take the blame as much as you."

"Annabeth is the right one for you," Rachel said after a moment of silence. "I mean, it might not seem like it now, but – I've seen the way she looks at you, when you're looking away. She loves you, Percy, and misses you just as badly as you miss her."

"But _why_ won't she listen to me, when I apologize?" Percy groaned, conflicted. His mind was buzzing with all the information Rachel had just handed him, but he knew she was right. They were better off as friends, not courting. He _did_ love her, but it was the way he would imagine loving a younger sister.

Definitely not what he felt when he looked at Annabeth.

"So, what should I do?" he asked her. "And not – not about the harbor, I mean. I know I messed up that, and I know how much that hurt her, me not trusting her. And all these months of arguing, and the things we've said to each other –" he winced, thinking back to some of their arguments. "Lord, the things we've said to each other…"

Rachel's slim, freckled hand touched his arm comfortingly. "Even the most broken friendships can be mended, Percy." Her voice was small. "You just – you have to talk. And _actually_ talk, not just argue and say hurtful things to each other." She laughed. "I've seen the way you two argue – it's as though your main objective is to hurt the other. Just – _stop,_ Percy. She's going to be defensive if you try again, especially after the harbor."

Percy sighed. "I already _tried,_ Rachel. This morning. She wants nothing to do with me, and she's not angry. That honestly is the frightening part. She's simply – _finished._ Ready to be done with me. With our friendship."

"She's hurting, Percy." Rachel's voice was soft. "She's tired and hurt and she _is_ angry, trust me. Even if she doesn't seem like it, she is. Let her calm down – show her you're serious. Try to be her friend – support her, be careful with her, love her without saying it – and she'll come around." She raised her pale eyebrow. "But first, _talk_ to her. Explain yourself. Apologize – and I don't mean just saying you're sorry, because obviously she knows that. Tell her everything you've done wrong, and hold yourself accountable for it." He opened his mouth to say something, but she shushed him. "I know that it's both of you who have made a mess of your friendship. I know she shares the blame – but you are the one taking this step. She knows she's in the wrong, too; maybe she'll lay aside her pride and acknowledge the things she's done wrong."

Percy sighed. Rachel had read his mind – Annabeth had said some hurtful things as well, and he was proud enough to want to make her pay for them, to feel the hurt he experienced when she said them.

But his friend was right. He was taking this step. He could swallow his pride and take the blame. In fact, it was the least he could do, after not believing her about the harbor.

"Alright," he agreed slowly, ignoring the bitter taste the words left in his mouth. "I – I do love her. You were right."

Rachel had a little grin playing on her pale face. "Then go _tell_ her that, idiot. Well, not at first," she amended. "But eventually."

He wrapped an arm around her skinny shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug. "But I love you, too. You'll always be my friend, Rachel."

She hit his chest indignantly. "Of course I will, you bloody idiot," she said, but there was a smile in her voice. "Now, go talk to Annabeth."

Percy slapped a hand to his forehead. "I forgot," he groaned. "She left maybe an hour ago, for Virginia. To visit her grandparents for her health, she said." He sighed. "Probably it was to get away from me, more likely."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Well, that does put a damper on things," she admitted. "But when she comes back, you are still going to talk to her. And I'll be around every day until then, to remind you."

Percy rolled his eyes fondly. "What else are you good for?"

He supposed he deserved _that_ slap to his chest.

"I probably should go back to the Chases' house," he announced, standing up. "Thank you, Rachel. For everything."

She grinned. "You're welcome. You should probably finish that nap you were having before I came – you look bloody awful."

"Why, _thank_ you," Percy answered dryly. "I will come to call at your house tomorrow?"

She waved a hand flippantly. "Or I'll be at yours."

He grinned and tugged on one of her curls straggling from the bun under her mobcap. "Farewell."

She pushed his hand away, pretending to be annoyed. " _Goodbye_ , Percy."

He walked quickly from the alley and entered the busy street. He _would_ talk to Annabeth, as soon as she got home. He _would_ mend their friendship.

This time, he wasn't giving up.

 **And that's that!**

 **On another random side note, I was re-reading through the beginning of this story, and I was basically cringing the entire way through chapters 2-6ish, just because there are SO many historical inaccuracies that I didn't research *headdesk* an they're kind of messing up the plot. So with the help of my girl Helena (who also betaed this chapter like usual and did a terrific job, so shoutout to her!) I decided that after I finish writing/posting this story, I'm going to be taking it all down except for the first chapter, doing a mass editing session, and then repost the story (probably like a chapter a day, or something really quick like that.) The mistakes are really bugging me and I also don't like how quickly Percy and Annabeth's relationship developed in the early chapters. I won't be doing any of that, though, until this story is COMPLETELY finished (and I'll prob leave it up a month or two as completed before I take it all down.)**

 **Sorry for the huge author's note! Because of school, I don't know how much time I'll have to write, but I will do my best to get the next chapter up next Saturday! _Please_ review, because I love reading them and they really motivate me to get out another chapter faster. **

**Until then, WM out. *salutes* *bows* *runs into door* i'm fine don't worry bYEEEEE**


	17. Nighttime Adventures

**Hello friends! Here's another chapter! Sorry for not updating last week, I didn't have the chapter finished due to a random writer's block. :( thankfully I found some time and motivation this week to work on it, so here you go! Hope you enjoy :)**

 _April 20_ _th_ _, 1775_

Annabeth sighed as she dipped her feet in the freezing cold, rushing water of the river. It was the one that flowed through her grandparents' plantation, the same one she and Percy had spent many hours in the previous summer.

Things had changed _so_ _much_ since then, Annabeth reflected. Not even withstanding her and Percy's extremely strained relationship, last summer… the spying had been almost like a game. She had known the consequences, she had known the risks, but none of it had felt _real._

Maybe it had all changed when Percy didn't believe her about the harbor, but it really had been growing long before that. Annabeth felt such guilt when she remembered the harbor – it had happened less than a week ago, and yet it felt like it had happened months ago, years ago, even. Tensions were so high throughout the colonies, it was a wonder the war hadn't begun already.

And now, she not only had the weight of a trapped Boston on her shoulders, but she also had remembered the information she and Percy had overheard at the ball, last Christmas. She flashed back in her mind to the moment.

 _The governor said, "–the rebels have been storing up gunpowder. If they manage to get ahold of guns, too, then they could become more than a small problem."_

 _"I know, sir," Major Pitcairn agreed. "Governor Dunmore of Williamsburg recently told me the rebels are storing up gunpowder there as well, and in larger supply. If, perhaps, our soldiers could get their hands on it…"_

 _"That would be both beneficial to our cause and a loss to theirs," the governor mused._

Annabeth opened her eyes, feeling her hands curl into fists. Now that she was in Williamsburg, things seemed deceptively quiet – but she knew that if the British soldiers were to make a move to steal Williamsburg's gunpowder, now would be a good time. People were already angry about Boston's harbor being closed; the word had traveled fast down the coast, and even Loyalists were doubting the wisdom of the king in his latest decision.

It was hard, though. _Everything_ was hard – gathering information, telling Paul Revere, managing Major Pitcairn – without Percy's calming presence by her side. She _missed_ him, and contrary to what she had told him when she left for Virginia, she _did_ want to forgive him. Annabeth hated the way they skirted around each other, the way their friendship had been so destroyed by so many things.

It was unfair, perhaps, to hate Rachel for the developments, but she did. Everything, it seemed, had started with her coming to the colonies, even if Annabeth knew she was just as much to blame as Percy for their arguments.

Still, Annabeth knew pride was her fatal flaw. Until Percy apologized – and not simply said he was sorry for what had happened, like he had the day she left, but _truly_ apologized, taking the blame – she wouldn't give in. And since he would probably never do that – well, they were frozen in this valley of hating each other.

Yes, it was stupid, and selfish, and Annabeth knew she could take the first step. Or the second step, technically, since Percy had apologized first. She had seen it in his eyes, that day – he missed her just as badly as she missed him; his heart hurt just as terribly as hers. If she were to forgive him and apologize herself, their friendship could be mended.

 _I will,_ Annabeth decided firmly, absentmindedly tearing a dead leaf on the ground into pieces. _I've been stubborn, and stupid, and I hate this._

As soon as she went back to Boston, _she_ would do the apologizing. She would make amends for her behavior the past months.

 _If Percy will even listen to me, that is._ After their latest fight about the harbor, the cracks in their relationship had widened farther than ever, and Annabeth wasn't sure if they could ever completely recover the amount of trust and love that their friendship had had before. He had apologized, and she had rejected him. Would they be able to move past that ever again? How long would it take to heal their broken relationship?

 _Especially if he and Rachel are courting now._ Annabeth bit her lip. She had admitted to herself long ago that the love she felt for Percy had been more than as a good friend. Even if they did try to mend their friendship, it would never be the same as it had been before he and Rachel were courting.

She pushed the tiresome thoughts from her head as she got to her feet, pulling on her long stockings and shoes again. A servant came running down the path, arms waving. "Miss Annabeth!"

She pasted on a kind smile; the girl didn't deserve be snapped at, even though Annabeth wanted to in her current mood. "Yes, Julia?"

"Mr. Chase wants to see you," the young girl said, smiling an adorable, gap-toothed smile.

Annabeth smiled back distractedly. "Thank you, Julia." She dug around in her bag for a piece of the maple sugar candy she had been hoarding. Bending down, she offered the candy to the child. "Would you like this?"

The girl's face lit up. "Oh, yes ma'am!" she answered, wide-eyed. Annabeth handed the sugary goodness to the small girl and waved goodbye as she continued up the path.

What could her grandfather want her for? It was the middle of the afternoon, so supper wasn't for a while, and dinner had already passed. They hadn't been expecting visitors today, so Annabeth couldn't fathom what her grandfather needed her for.

She entered the house and stopped by the mirror on the wall. After hastily smoothing down the halo of frizz around her hair, straightening her dress, and wiping a bit of dirt from her cheek (her grandmother would never tolerate untidiness), she entered the parlor, where her grandparents waited.

"You wanted to see me, Grandfather?" she asked, curtsying in greeting.

Mr. Chase's wrinkled face split into a wide grin. "Yes, thank you for coming so quickly, Annabeth. I have to travel to town this afternoon, and the Coles' eldest daughter wanted to see you. Would you like to come with me and spend the night with them? I shall be staying with the Coles as well. They are hosting a formal supper, and the governor himself will be there, as well as a few other important men. It would do you good to meet them."

Annabeth bit her lip, considering. Honestly, she rather hated the Cole's eldest daughter, Drew. She was a huge gossip, and only tried to be 'friends'with Annabeth when it was convenient to her or her parents, who were extremely loyal to the King, and very vocal about their views.

On the other hand, she was already tired of being on the plantation. With Percy last summer, it had seemed they never had enough time to swim, climb trees, explore the woods, and everything else they had done, but by herself, it was surprisingly… _lonely._ A day or two in town would do her good, even if she had to spend time with Drew.

And also, a formal dinner party meant time with important Loyalists, and could be a valuable place to get any information she could.

"Certainly, Grandfather," she answered finally. "I think a day or two in town would be lovely. What time are you leaving?"

Her grandfather looked pleased. "I plan to leave in an hour or so. Have your maid pack you a bag with everything you need."

Her grandmother spoke up for the first time, raising her gaze from her embroidery. "And remember, Annabeth dear, you will need to be in relatively formal dining wear for the party. None of your old frocks or ripped petticoats, darling." Her grandmother waved her embroidery needle at Annabeth's current outfit, and Annabeth winced. It was a faded blue cotton dress, with mud staining the back where she had sat down at the river. Several holes had obviously been mended in the skirt and bodice, and the fabric was almost worn through in places.

Annabeth held back a sigh. She disliked getting dressed up, but she had brought a few nice dresses. "Yes, Grandmother."

Her grandfather smiled in dismissal. "The carriage will be at the front in an hour. Be ready."

Annabeth stood and curtsied as she left. "I will, Grandfather." Quickly, she scurried up the polished oak staircase to her room.

She had a maid pack a few formal outfits for herself, but grabbed a more comfortable dress as well. It wouldn't do to be in stiff, uncomfortable clothes _all_ the time.

Annabeth pulled the top half of her hair back and tied it with a ribbon, leaving only a few curls framing her face, and the curls underneath the weighty mass of hair spiraling down to her waist. After changing into her fashionable green riding outfit, she pulled on her practical leather riding boots and surveyed herself in the mirror.

Annabeth nodded firmly. She could do this – putting up with Drew for a few days couldn't be _that_ bad, could it?

She flopped onto her bed and grabbed one of the precious books she had managed, engulfing herself in another world until her grandfather's voice calling her brought her back to reality.

"Coming," she called, grabbing her tricorn hat from the side table and straightening the bodice of the fitted wool jacket. The maid had already taken her bag down, so all she had to do was take a deep breath and descend the stairs.

"Be careful, darling," her grandmother said quietly as she embraced her. Annabeth hid a grin – if only her grandmother knew how dangerous her life really was.

"I will," she promised, hugging her back. "Are you ready to go, Grandfather?"

He gestured to the carriage and held out his elbow jovially. "Certainly, my lady." He helped her into the carriage and got in himself, shutting the door behind him.

Williamsburg wasn't too far away, maybe an hour by carriage, but Annabeth had been up since dawn, and she felt her eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

The next thing she knew, her grandfather was chuckling and shaking her, and they were in Williamsburg.

It was a bustling little city, a lot like Boston, Annabeth reflected. Apart from there being no wharf, the salty breeze a noticeable absence, it _did_ feel a lot like her hometown. The cobblestone streets were packed with carriages, wagons, vendors, busy housewives, and rowdy children playing games. Shouts, horses neighing, wheels clattering over the cobblestones, and children's voices met her ears, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity.

"Come, my dear," her grandfather motioned to her.

Annabeth took a deep breath and mounted the steps to the Coles' townhouse. It was large and rather show-offish, she thought absentmindedly, but the architecture was superb. She was studying the curved entryway when the maid answered the door.

"Miss Annabeth? Mr. Chase?" she asked slightly timidly.

"Yes, indeed," answered Annabeth's grandfather.

Another face appeared behind the maid. "Oh, do move over, Catherine," came a slightly nasal voice, and then Drew's delicate face was three inches from Annabeth's own. "Oh, _Annabeth_! I have missed you terribly since we dropped you off at your grandparents! Honestly, you should have just stayed with us the whole time. I was at a dance the other day, and I saw the most wonderful young man. He said he knew you… You _must_ introduce me, darling. I'm also having a new dress made for a ball I just received an invitation to a few days ago. 'Tis orange taffeta and _just_ the fashion that's coming from London these days."

She finally paused for a breath.

Annabeth blinked.

"And how are you, Mr. Chase?" Drew started up again, practically purring. "And how is Mrs. Chase? I heard she was feeling poorly, and I had Catherine send over a basket of things – didn't you, Catherine?" she addressed the young maid sharply.

The young girl jumped. "Oh, yes ma'am!" she squeaked.

Drew rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you both must come in. Mother's out, but Father's been expecting you." She turned, almost running over the maid. "Oh, get out of my way, you clumsy girl…"

Annabeth followed her grandfather with a sinking heart. This would be a _long_ visit.

•

"That's Lord Dunmore, the governor of Virginia," Drew hissed.

Annabeth nodded, barely listening to Drew's whispered introductions of the important men on the guest list. What was supposed to be a formal supper was actually a party, with couples dancing in the drawing room and servants carrying around platters of tiny cakes and champagne. Annabeth had counted perhaps fifteen couples, all older, Loyalist men with their wives. Honestly, she couldn't have cared less about the party, instead wishing she could go upstairs and take a nap, but she did need to get some new information.

At least she could get _something_ done on this insufferable visit.

Because Drew was… well, _Drew,_ she had insisted on getting Annabeth dressed up for the night. Annabeth actually appreciated the gesture, knowing it was Drew's own way of trying to show affection, no matter how much she disliked the girl's attitude. It wasn't so much as the difference of their personalities – though they were as different as night and day – but the constant complaining and whining the older girl continuously spouted. Not to mention the way she treated her servants, like they were no more than the mud on her gilded slipper. She flirted with anything wearing trousers, and her intellectual experience included going to the milliners to catch up on the latest fashions and fabrics shipped from London.

After enduring her constant prattle for over twelve hours in the carriage less than a week before, Annabeth was completely sick of being with her, but she knew what had to be done. Besides her family's many connections in the Loyalist world, the Coles themselves were a wealth of information, and Annabeth knew she could learn much after Drew had had a few glasses of champagne.

All of which was why she put up with Drew picking out one of her many gowns for her, fixing her hair, and even lending her some expensive perfume.

The dress was uncomfortably stiff, not to mention the corset pinching her waist in so her could hardly breathe. It was beautiful, to be sure –endless clouds of sky-blue linen, delicate snow-white muslin, and expensive lace adorning every available surface. Pearls dangled from her ears, and her hair was piled on top of her head in mountains of golden curls and strings of pearls.

She had caught more than one of the rich, important men eyeing the cleavage peeking from the lacy, low-cut neckline of the dress. Back in Boston, a frosty glare was usually enough to deter the rude whistle and crude stares from the young soldiers in the streets and taverns, but these old, wealthy men seemed to think they were entitled to anything they wanted. If she hadn't _needed_ to be at the party to pick up bits of information that could be useful, Annabeth knew she already would have lost her temper (and maybe thrown a punch or two, thanks to Percy's teaching her a bit on how to defend herself).

Swallowing her inner protests, she went up to Governor Dunmore, who was obviously a bit tipsy. His wife was off chatting with other elegant ladies on the other side of the room, and Annabeth was rather glad; the governor eyes flitted crudely over her entire body before going back up to her face.

"Good evening, Governor Dunmore," she said, curtsying politely, but sending him a sly smile. Now was time to turn up the acting (she could vomit later).

"And who are you, you pretty thing?" he asked, swaying a bit.

Annabeth tittered. "My name is Annabeth Chase. I wonder if Major Pitcairn hasn't mentioned me – or have you even been in touch with him lately?"

He leered at her. "Oh, the Major…! Yes, that old bastard and I… he has good ideas, you know."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Oh, does he?"

The man hiccupped. "Yes… in fact, one of his ideas – but oh, I mustn't tell you." He mimed closing his lips, and Annabeth forced a laugh. The governor leaned closer, breath tinged with champagne and the faintest hint of beer, like he had already been drinking. Just looking at him, Annabeth could confirm he was far too drunk to have simply had a few too many glasses of champagne. "But it will happen soon, my dear."

Annabeth simpered, mind working frantically. _Keep him talking, keep him talking –_ "You must be an intelligent man, sir, to run the whole state of Virginia." She mock sighed and stepped closer, letting her fingers flit over his shoulder. "How _do_ you do it?"

"Oh yes," he leered. "But I do get most of my orders from the king." He took a step closer to her, his gaze again flitting to her chest.

Annabeth drew closer, hiding a grimace with a sultry smile. "What orders does the king give you?" she whispered.

Governor Dunmore smirked. "The king tells me to do whatever I can to bring these rebels down," he said, glancing down. "And I… I intend to follow his orders."

Annabeth stepped back, noting that his wife was heading towards them. "It was an honor to meet you, Governor," she said, curtsying again as his wife took her husband's elbow.

He dipped his head, clunking his chin on his chest in his tipsiness. Annabeth choked back a laugh. "And you too, Miss Chase."

Annabeth nodded to his wife and spun on her heel as she walked quick back to the drawing room, mind working furiously. _Already been drinking beer, though 'tis not even seven in the evening yet… King sent orders to stop the rebels… been in very recent contact with Major Pitcairn, the first one to mention perhaps taking gunpowder, and that was months ago…_

Annabeth stopped, taking a deep breath. The governor would be making a move, probably very soon. _If not tonight, then in the next few days…_

She wondered how long she would be able to tolerate Drew – she would have to, if worst came to the worst and she had to stay for a few more days.

Shaking her head, she returned to the table, where Drew was talking to a tall, blond man in a grey coat, a predatory smile on her face as she leaned over purposely. Annabeth sighed at the girl; Drew's movement made her breasts even closer together, and though Annabeth, from her position, could only see the back of the young man's head, it was clear that he was uncomfortable.

She made her way around to Drew's side, planning to distract the other girl and perhaps let the young man escape, but then she caught sight of the young man's face.

" _Jason?_ " she gasped.

His handsome features contorted in confusion. "Annabeth?"

"Jason!" Annabeth cried, embracing him quickly. He hugged her back, whispering _please save me_ in her ear. She stifled a laugh as she pulled back.

Drew looked annoyed as she huffed, "So you _do_ know him?"

"Um, yes," Annabeth answered, rolling her eyes at Jason as she turned to Drew. Jason looked profoundly relieved. "We met him last summer, and he now lives in Boston."

Drew narrowed her eyes. " _We_?"

Jason, knowing of Annabeth and Percy's fight, deftly avoided Drew's question. "Yes, I do normally live in Boston, but I had to travel down to Williamsburg to take care of some business."

"Shall we get some food? I haven't eaten yet," Annabeth said quickly. "I'll be back quickly, Drew."

The other girl's attention was drawn to some young soldiers entering. "Certainly, 'beth. You go along." She made a beeline for the two young men, and Annabeth felt an amused pity for the soldiers.

"I thought she would never stop talking," Jason muttered, taking her arm as they made their way around laughing couples and the musicians.

Annabeth smothered a laugh. "Oh trust me, I understand completely. But why didn't you just tell her you are already courting someone?"

"I – well, both Piper and I feel like we shouldn't advertise the fact that we're married," Jason answered, a slow grin beginning to form on his face as he looked down at Annabeth.

"Well, yes, I completely understand that, but –" Annabeth paused, realization dawning on her features. "Wait, Jason, you're _married?_ I didn't know! I am so happy for you both."

Jason grinned broadly. "Indeed. We got married a month ago. I would have told you, but things –" his expression soured a bit, "have been a bit hectic since then."

"Trust me, I know," Annabeth sighed.

He glanced down, his face softening. "Are you and Percy still not speaking?"

Annabeth pursed her lips, nodding. "But – I made up my mind to apologize for everything I've done as soon as I get home. He already did, but I was still too angry about the harbor."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "The harbor being closed? Why would that affect your decision?" A server offered them little pastries, and Annabeth and Jason both accepted gratefully.

Annabeth took a dainty bite of the sweet. "I… I had learned that the harbor would be closed a few days earlier. It was the middle of the night, and Paul Revere was gone, and I had no one else to turn to, so I went to Percy. Because of our fight, however, he wouldn't believe me, and so the information didn't get out in time."

Jason looked stricken. "But why wouldn't he believe you? Just because you two are being stubborn asses–" he backtracked at Annabeth's glare. "Just because you two aren't talking shouldn't have him questioning his trust in you!"

"My thoughts exactly," Annabeth sighed. "Anyway, he obviously was sorry for not believing me and apologized – and not just for that, for everything. So I think if I accept his apology when I get back and tell him I'm sorry as well – perhaps we can begin fixing our friendship."

Jason bit his lip. "Annabeth… you do know that it's not just going to go back to what you two had? I have barely been around, but even I can see how you've broken each other these past few months. And for Percy not to believe your information… 'twill take a while to regain the trust you had in one another."

Annabeth pressed her lips together. "I know, Jason. I know." Not trusting herself to continue the conversation, she changed the subject hastily. "So why are you here? I didn't even know you'd left Boston. Did you leave before the harbor was closed?"

Jason sent her a knowing glance as he finished up the last of his pastry, but he didn't push it. "No, I have a… _friend?_ " he winced as he spoke. "…who's an officer. He got me out three days ago."

Annabeth sighed. "You're a terrible liar, Jason. Was it Percy?"

Jason bit his lip, glancing over at her nervously as though expecting her to explode. "Um… yes?"

Annabeth shrugged half-heartedly. "I suppose it's a good thing. But _why_ are you here, Jason?"

"I had some leftover business from the death of my father that just resurfaced," Jason explained. "Why are you here?"

Annabeth leaned closer. "Would you like to dance?" she asked in a louder voice, leading him out of the corner they had been standing in and into the drawing room. Jason acquiesced, looking slightly surprised.

Once the string quartet was playing a bright waltz to cover their conversation, Annabeth said, "I heard a snippet of information back in December that Governor Dunmore would eventually try take the gunpowder in the magazine in Williamsburg. Based on talking to Governor Dunmore, I believe he will be attempting it soon."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Jason asked dryly. "Annabeth, you must remember that here, anyone who doesn't know you thinks you are a docile, Loyalist girl, and anyone who does knows you only as a Loyalist spy. You cannot simply lose your cover, even if the stakes are high."

"I _know_ that, Jason," Annabeth answered impatiently. "I just – you and I are now the only ones here who know of the threat, and…"

Jason sighed heavily. "I know I will not be able to talk you out of whatever you're planning, but please, Annabeth, be _careful._ "

"I will," Annabeth promised, rising up to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you for caring, Jason."

He pressed his lips together, obviously not happy with her decision. "I cannot tell you I approve, but if you need help… I'm staying at the Baker's Inn, two streets over."

Annabeth nodded. "I probably should get back to Drew; people think we only know each other through my grandparents."

He agreed, squeezing her hand comfortingly. "Be safe."

She nodded again with a reassuring smile, then ducked past a tipsy couple dancing and went back to Drew. By this time, it was getting later.

"Drew," she called, waving the other girl over from where she was flirting with a red-coated soldier. "I'm not feeling well, so I think I shall retire shortly," she announced.

"Oh darling, you can't leave _now,_ " Drew answered in a sing-song voice as she abandoned her prey and took Annabeth's elbow. She, too, was obviously a little bit drunk, and Annabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes, I really must, Drew," she said, gently detangling herself from Drew's arms. "I will see you in the morning?"

"Alright darling, I shall be up in a few hours!" Drew called after her, but Annabeth was in no mood to listen. She went upstairs quickly, changing into her nightgown, and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of Drew's room.

 _I'll sleep until the party ends, and then I'll begin,_ she decided. As a light sleeper, she knew when Drew eventually made it upstairs the noise of her entering the room would wake her. Pulling the coverlet up, she was fast asleep within minutes.

•

A few hours later, Annabeth woke with a start. She lay in bed for a minute, disoriented to what had woken her up.

Then she heard another muffled curse, and shook her head, grinning into the dark. A very tipsy Drew had just entered the room they were sharing, and apparently was now trying to undress.

Taking pity on the girl, Annabeth slipped out of bed and padded nearer. She lit a candle from the vanity and nodded to Drew. "Here, let me help."

"'Twas a lovely, lovely party…" Drew prattled, her words slurring a bit. Annabeth shook her head as she quickly helped Drew step out of her dress and petticoats, unlaced her corset, and pull on a silk nightgown.

"Thank… you," Drew managed before she fell into bed, snoring in seconds.

Annabeth muffled a laugh as she shook her head, hastily draping the other girl's expensive dress onto a chair so she wouldn't trip over it in the morning. She glanced at the grandfather clock and froze, all her thoughts from the previous night flooding back to her sleepy brain.

 _Eleven o'clock. The governor's plans. The gunpowder at the magazine…_

She had no idea when the soldiers would make their move, but there was no time to spare. Instead of taking time to put on some clothes, Annabeth simply grabbed a dressing robe and put it on over her nightgown, pulling on the practical leather boots she had brought with her just for this purpose.

She snuck out of the door and down the stairs, pausing in fear with every creak the old wood made. If the Coles were to catch her now… hell, if even a servant were to see her, she could be in serious trouble. Not to mention that her own grandfather was sleeping a few doors down, oblivious to his granddaughter's night wanderings.

Hopefully, she would keep it that way.

After what felt like years of tiptoeing through the large house, Annabeth shut the front door behind her and breathed in the fresh night air. The darkness surrounded her, but the glow of the nearly full moon shone onto the street, and once her eyes adjusted, Annabeth was able to see easily.

She steeled her jaw. Now, she had to get to the magazine.

Like a shadow itself, she flitted through the streets, avoiding windows and walking in the open like the plague. Once she had to duck into a dark alley, narrowly avoiding being seen by two yawning guards, but by the end of her trek she was still unnoticed.

Across the street from the magazine, Annabeth surveyed it silently, not daring to get any closer. After making sure no eyes were upon her, she quickly scuttled behind a bush lining the street and sank to her knees, sighing.

 _And now I wait._

She honestly had no idea if the men would even come tonight, but between the hints the governor had been dropping and the fact that he had been drinking – to calm his nerves, Annabeth suspected – she was relatively sure that if they were to make a move, they would make it tonight.

The minutes dragged on, and more than once Annabeth nodded off to sleep before jerking awake, glancing around frantically to make sure she hadn't missed anything. The night was just as still and peaceful as before, however, and she was just beginning to fall asleep for the third time when something woke her up.

Torches flicked in front of the magazine, and the muffled whinny of a horse jerked her sleepy mind into action. Behind the bush, she was in little danger of being seen, but she had to get closer, to see what they were doing.

She waited a few more seconds until the torches had passed her, heading into the magazine. Carefully moving out from behind the bush, she followed them.

Annabeth thought quickly. The muffled sound of horses and soldiers moving was to her right, descending into the magazine with a wagon, probably to transfer the gunpowder. So she hastily tiptoed to her left, and gazed up at the dozen-foot brick wall.

She had to get to the top of the wall. She had to see what they were doing for sure.

Annabeth pulled off the dressing gown and tossed it into the grass beside her. She hiked her nightgown to far above her knees, found a foothold about two feet from the ground, and began climbing.

Grueling, agonizing minutes ticked by. Annabeth was panting, her fingernails and hands torn and bleeding from the rough bricks. A particularly rough brick scraped her thigh, and she swore quietly.

The muffled sounds of voices were growing louder, and added to it were the sounds of barrels being rolled across cobblestones. Annabeth risked a glance up, and her heart soared. Only a few more feet, and she would be able to see over the wall.

Finally, _finally,_ she was at the top. Silently, yet eagerly, she peered over the top and smiled savagely as a new thought came to her.

The soldiers were moving around barrels of gunpowder as quietly as they could, loading it into wagons, the few torches they had flickering in the dark. Annabeth knew what she could do.

Having seen what she needed, she dropped, light as a cat, onto the soft, grassy ground surrounding the wall. Pain shot through her feet at the landing, but getting down was so much easier than getting up that she simply ignored it and took off running.

A few streets over, she found herself at the inn Jason had told her he was staying at the night before. She opened the door and slipped in, thankful that no one was in the main room. _It has to be about midnight by now,_ she reasoned. _Hopefully, everyone's gone to bed._

Tiptoeing upstairs, she was faced with a hallway of doors. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the first one on her right. The person inside was definitely _not_ Jason, and neither was his pretty companion. Annabeth shut the door, blushing, and turned to the first one on her left.

Three doors later and no luck; Annabeth was beginning to think he had left Williamsburg. Only one door left to try; she turned to the last door on her left and opened it quietly.

There was Jason, sprawled out sound asleep on the bed. He looked so peaceful that Annabeth almost felt badly for waking him, but then she remembered what was happening outside.

"Jason," she hissed, shaking his shoulders. "Wake up."

He opened his eyes, glancing up at her blearily. "Annabeth?" he asked groggily. "What are you doing here?"

Annabeth chuckled at his messy hair and sleepy eyes. He looked endearingly like a little boy in that moment, and she felt a rush of gratitude for his friendship.

And also helping her out of tight situations. Like this one.

She quickly explained. After the first couple sentences, Jason was out of bed and pulling on his jacket and shoes. "But how are we going to wake people up?" Annabeth finally asked as she finished.

Jason grinned. "Did I tell you there are two drummer boys in the room across the hall, _and_ that I had a friend who once showed me how to sound different signals?"

Annabeth beamed. "Jason, you are a _genius._ "

A few minutes later, they were outside, Jason with a stolen drum and Annabeth with one of Jason's coats wrapped around her, hiding her hair and face. If any Loyalist saw her right now, she would be doomed.

They arrived back at the magazine, and Jason lifted her up above the top of the wall, just in time to see the soldiers finishing their job.

"We have to hurry," Annabeth hissed. "Can you sound an alarm?"

Jason's brow furrowed. "Yes, but you can't be here. Think of the danger you'd be in – go quickly, and hide."

Annabeth acquiesced, slipping behind the bush she had hidden when she first arrived. The sharp raps of Jason's drum split the air just as she got settled, piercing the silence of the night. Over and over, he played the same beat, and within seconds, doors were being slammed open and people pouring into the streets.

Annabeth smiled smugly as angry Patriots surrounded the cart filled to the brim with barrels of gunpowder. The British soldiers surrendered, and the crowd continued to get bigger, angry shouts, cries, and conversations filling the air.

It was all so different than the silence just a few minutes before that Annabeth shook her head to clear the disorientation.

She jumped in surprise as Jason appeared next to her, his face dirty, but mirroring her smug expression. "You did well, Annabeth," he said, not looking at her as he surveyed the growing chaos in the streets. "Everyone knows now that Governor Dunmore is behind this attack, and I'm sure even Loyalists will be disgusted at his dirty tactics."

Annabeth smiled proudly, but a huge yawn escaped her.

Jason finally looked over, chuckling. "We need to get you home, though," he announced. "You're obviously exhausted, and if anyone saw you…"

Annabeth nodded in agreement, the adrenaline she had been feeling for the past few hours finally fading, and exhaustion taking its place. Quietly, she and Jason slipped away from the crowd.

She embraced Jason as they arrived at the Coles' house. "Thank you so much," she whispered. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything without you."

He smiled fondly at her. "This was both of us, Annabeth. Without you, they would have gotten away with this, and the Patriots would have lost a lot of much-needed gunpowder."

Annabeth smiled wearily, proudly. "I should probably should get inside before someone sees me. Thank you again, Jason."

He kissed her forehead gently. "Get some rest, Annabeth. Goodnight."

Annabeth went to bed exhausted, her boots kicked under the bed and her nightgown dusty, but with a smile on her face. It was only as she was about to fall asleep did she realize the she had forgotten her dressing gown at the magazine.

 _Dammit. I liked that robe._

 **And that's it! As always, big shoutout to Helena who edited this wHILE SHE WAS SICK. Is she amazing or what? ILY, girl! xx**

 **I was wondering if anyone has any song recommendations for previous chapters/good music to write to? I find that one really good way to combat writer's block is to listen to music, so song recs would be fantastic! :)**

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please review!**

 **WM**


	18. Friendships and Forgiveness

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I'm so bad at schedules that it's really just pathetic. XD Thanks to my bae Helena, who edited this for me! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)**

 _May 1_ _st_ _, 1775_

It was on her way home from Williamsburg when Annabeth heard the news.

She was in one of her grandparent's carriages; one of their servants was the coachman, and would be going back as soon as he dropped her off in Boston. They were at a small town in Delaware, stopping for supper at a tavern, and all around them people were buzzing.

Annabeth's brow furrowed and she set down her fork, getting out of her seat to approach a young couple at a nearby table. "What did you say just now?" she demanded, her fingernails digging into the soft skin of her palms.

The young man looked frightened; Annabeth supposed her glare could have that effect. "Haven't y-you heard?" he stuttered. "The British attacked Lexington and Concord. The war has begun."

Annabeth felt the blood drain from her face, and she was forced to steady herself on the table. The young man's companion looked concerned. "Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

Annabeth nodded, biting her lip so hard that she tasted blood. "I'm – fine," she gritted, tilting her chin up and quickly walking back to her table. She grabbed a piece of bread from her uneaten plate of supper and motioned to the servant. "William, we have to go. Immediately."

The old man looked surprised and disgruntled at having to leave his half-eaten meal, but he stood up and followed her outside, muttering to himself about "youngins and their insufferable impatience."

Annabeth was absorbed in her thoughts; she could hear her heart pounding with fear and apprehension. _The war has begun._ The young man's words rang in her ears over and over and over.

 _The war has begun._

She quickened her pace, stepping into the carriage and slamming the door. "I have to get to Boston, William," she called, staring at the crescent-shaped marks her fingernails left in her palms. She bit her lip. "As soon as I possibly can."

•

Less than a week later, Annabeth jerked awake from where she had been nodding to sleep for the hundredth time that day. They hadn't stopped at any inns once Annabeth had heard the news, and she and William had slept under the stars, only pausing for the horse to regain its strength each night.

She looked a mess and she knew it. Her hair was in tangled matts, and she had finally tied it back in a bun to get it out of her face. Dark circles made an appearance underneath her eyes, and she felt dirty and dusty, after being on the road for a week and a half without washing.

But they were on the outskirts of the Neck; William was talking to the red-coated guards now, gesturing towards her. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost home.

She had just begun to nod off again, the exhausting hours of being on the road finally catching up to her, when a familiar voice reached her ears.

Her eyes jerked open.

Percy, sitting atop Blackjack, was talking to William. Annabeth didn't miss the way his eyes strayed to the carriage, although she knew he couldn't see her. The reluctant guards that William had been arguing with grudgingly nodded to Percy, though Annabeth couldn't hear what they were saying.

Then William was getting back atop the carriage, and Percy was reigning in Blackjack next to the window, and – _dammit._ Annabeth wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready _at all._

They needed to talk, she knew that. She had sworn to herself that she would apologize, even if he didn't accept it, and finally do her best to fix their friendship.

But not now. Not when she was such a disaster – exhausted, and worried about the war, about what the king would do next, worried about her family, worried about _him –_

And suddenly he was there, opening the carriage door, his forehead creased with worry lines and green eyes looking at her like she was the sun and she couldn't breathe.

His thick hair was sticking up, like he had been running his hand through it the way he did when he was nervous. "Annabeth."

Annabeth wiped her sweaty hands on her filthy dress. "Percy."

"You look terrible," he offered, and even though technically they were still fighting, Annabeth couldn't help but snort.

"Thank you, I hadn't noticed." For an instant, a flash of their old banter came back, but then awkwardness settled in the air, and Annabeth again was reminded that their old friendship had been gone for over three months.

But – they were going to be alright. It was one of the last things she had to hold onto, and she _needed_ him.

"We need to talk –"

"I need to tell you –" Percy began at the same time.

They both stopped, sheepish smiles on their faces. "But not now," Annabeth finished. "I need – I need to get home."

"But – we will? Talk, I mean," Percy asked cautiously.

Annabeth twisted her hands in her lap. "Yes. Yes, we will," she answered firmly. Percy squinted, searching her eyes. He must have found what he wanted, because relief coated his features as he leaned back.

"I suppose – I'll be going now," he said awkwardly, and Annabeth nodded.

"I – I'll see you at home, Percy," she said, and his whole face brightened.

"I'll see you at home, Annabeth."

•

A few hours later, Annabeth was feeling much more like herself. She had taken a bath and had a servant wash her hair. She put on a comfortable, simple dress and went downstairs to eat a late supper.

"How was your trip, darling?" her stepmother asked as she filled Annabeth's bowl with stew.

"It was – interesting," Annabeth replied vaguely, grinning inwardly as she remembered her trip to Williamsburg.

Her stepmother nodded with a soft smile. "Good. Did you hear about…?" she trailed off.

Annabeth sighed as she began to eat. "The war truly beginning?"

Her father entered the dining room and sat down, answering, "Yes."

"On the way back," Annabeth admitted. "What can you tell me about it, Father?"

Frederick Chase sighed heavily. "About a week and a half ago, over 700 British troops marched to the Lexington Green. Those stubborn, stupid rebels foolishly refused to lay down their arms, even though Major Pitcairn offered to let them simply leave if they did."

Annabeth nodded, picturing the kindly Major whom she answered to.

Dr. Chase continued. "From what I have heard, someone fired a shot just as the rebels finally decided to leave – no one knows which side – and the fighting began."

Annabeth's heart sank. "How many were killed?" she asked, without really wanting to know the answer.

Her father sighed heavily. "In the first battle, eight of the rebels were killed, and nine were wounded, at least as far as I know. Only one of the King's soldiers was killed, though." He frowned. "But then thousands of minutemen gathered at the Concord Bridge, after the Royal Army had gone through the town searching for weapons to burn, and over two hundred and fifty British soldiers were killed."

Annabeth felt sick to her stomach. She may not sympathize with the British cause, but many of these soldiers were only a few years older than her. _Children,_ really.

"I do not know many of the details – we just got word of the battle of a few days ago," her father continued. "But I do know that Percy was there."

Annabeth's head whipped up, and a picture of Percy lying dead or wounded flashed through her head. "He was? But I saw him at the Neck on the way home this morning!"

Dr. Chase shook his head. "Just because the war's begun doesn't mean the Neck shouldn't be guarded."

Her stepmother entered the conversation again. "Supplies for the store are running low," she confided. "We have no sugar, no tea, no new cloth –"

Her father sighed heavily as he folded his newspaper and got up from the table. "We are living in difficult times," he said as he left the room, Mrs. Chase following after him worriedly.

Annabeth finished her stew in silence. They were living in difficult times, indeed.

•

That night, Annabeth had tossed and turned in her bed for what felt like hours before finally giving up on falling asleep. She quietly pulled on a dressing robe over her shift and went outside to the garden, shutting the front door as quietly as she could.

Outside, she took a deep breath. Now that spring had truly arrived in Boston, the warm night air felt dewy and sweet. The stars twinkled in the inky sky, and a crescent moon shone just enough light so Annabeth could barely see once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

She carefully followed the dirt path to the large garden behind her family's home, the grass soft and wet underneath her bare feet. After taking a seat on an old, musty-smelling wooden bench, she leaned back, drawing the robe a little tighter around her shoulders, and closed her eyes, taking another deep breath.

Annabeth let all the worries and stress that had piled up on her shoulders the past month go, even if just for a few minutes. Somehow, under the stars and away from her life, everything seemed smaller, more insignificant.

She was drifting off, the cool night air and soft nighttime sounds lulling her to sleep, when a rough voice broke into her thoughts. "May I join you?"

Annabeth whipped her gaze up, jumping in surprise when she saw Percy standing in front of the bench. "Certainly," she said, a bit awkwardly.

He sat, and Annabeth noticed that the lavender circles under his eyes matched her own. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked, immediately feeling foolish. Of course he wasn't able to sleep, otherwise he would in bed.

He answered with a small smile, and Annabeth tried not to not. "No, I couldn't."

They sat in vaguely awkward silence before Annabeth spoke softly. "I heard – my father told me you were at the battle."

His shoulders sagged, and he looked away. "I was."

Annabeth tried again. "Do you… do you want to talk about it?"

Percy glanced back at her. "I… I can't even begin to find words," he began softly. "I've been training as a soldier, an officer, for years, and yet to actually see such carnage – it was unfathomable."

On impulse, she reached out to touch his arm comfortingly before retracting quickly her hand. They weren't even really friends anymore, and the gesture, so insignificant only a few months before, now seemed like it was crossing a line.

But just as she was about to apologize, Percy reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't," he said. "Don't – don't let go, Annabeth."

Numbly, she took his hand, and a tiny piece of her clicked back into place.

"I saw men – only boys, really – that I knew back in London, whom I played with growing up, get _shot,_ Annabeth. Right in front of me. And I could do nothing to stop it." He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "I was with one of my friends as he died, choking on his own blood. He had been just in front of me, had taken the bullet probably meant for me."

Percy wouldn't look at her as he continued. "I can still see him. Every time I close my eyes, I see him coughing up blood, a bullet in his gut and blood on his lips and suddenly he's just – he's just _gone,_ Annabeth, and I can't –" he choked. "I can't watch it happen again. I never want to see it again, but if the war continues, then there's no question that I shall. Whether fighting for the Patriots or the British. There's no escaping the death that war brings."

Annabeth chewed at her bottom lip, looking away. "It – the war always seemed so far away," she admitted softly. "All these months, we've been spying and gathering information and doing what we could to help – but it still always seemed almost like a game. Do you know what I mean?"

Percy nodded. "I don't want war, Annabeth," he said quietly. "But now that it's begun – there's no way to stop it. Not anymore."

Annabeth knew what he was trying to say. "The only option now is to win it as soon as possible," she agreed numbly.

The unspoken question hung in the air: _How many more must die before the war ends? How many lives will it cost?_

"I hate it, Annabeth!" Percy burst out suddenly, startling her. He turned away. "I hate everything about it. I hate that I have to worry about my friends being killed every day, hate how I don't know who to trust anymore, hate that I have nightmares –" he drew in a staggered breath. "That I have nightmares – every damn _night_ – about you dying," he admitted, his voice low. "I hate how you're the person I care about most and I can't even talk to you because of this _stupid_ fight, because of this _stupid_ war and the _stupid_ decisions I've made –"

"I'm sorry," Annabeth suddenly said, unable to hear him tear himself apart because of her. He glanced at her in surprise, but she wasn't finished. "I'm sorry I ignored you and broke your trust and said I would spy alone because I don't work well alone. I work best with _you._ Percy, I _need_ you, and you're my best friend, and I love you." She paused and looked away, her hands shaking. What if he didn't accept her apology? What if it really was too late for them, like she had told him coldly before leaving for Williamsburg?

And suddenly his arms were around her, holding her so tightly she couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Percy chanted in her ear, and she thought she felt tears on her neck. She had never seen Percy cry, but –

"You don't have to worry about losing me, Percy," she said firmly. "You _don't._ We're going to survive this war. We're going to do whatever we can to help win it, help win freedom for the colonies."

He pulled back, and his eyes looked like fragile, broken glass in the moonlight, his long, dark lashes wet. "I know it might take some time," he admitted, and he seemed to be telling himself as much as her. "We – we've made some bad decisions, and fought over stupid things, and I've said terrible things and done terrible things to you, Annabeth, and –"

"It – it was mutually done," Annabeth admitted, and suddenly she was crying too, because this was her _best friend,_ and she had no idea how she'd managed without him this long. "But I'm sorry. For everything, Percy, and this time, I mean it. Will – will you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he murmured, squeezing her hand.

She looked away, not wanting to continue, but knowing she had to. "I'm – I'm sorry for being a complete arsehole to Rachel," Annabeth said quietly. "And I know – I know you two are courting, and I'll stay out of your way, I promise, and –" She was interrupted by Percy shaking, and for a minute she thought he was crying, but then realized –

He was _laughing,_ and Annabeth couldn't comprehend why.

"What?" she demanded. "Dammit, Percy, why are you laughing?"

"We – we aren't courting," Percy wheezed. "We talking about it, but we realized we are much better off as friends."

Annabeth tried to ignore the fluttering of joy in her heart and focused instead on smacking him. "Why didn't you _tell_ me that?" she demanded.

"I – well, I thought you knew," he said, having finally stopped laughing.

Annabeth shook her head slightly. "I didn't," she answered loftily. "Besides, Percy, you _kissed_ her. What was I supposed to think?"

"She kissed me," Percy corrected her, a somber expression crossing his face. "And then – I kissed her back. Both of us later admitted we'd made a mistake."

Annabeth felt the wall of jealousy that she'd been building, brick by brick for months, completely fall apart. "Well… still," she said, trying to move forward. "She's your friend. And I acted rudely."

"I'm certain that if you two were to become friends, you would enjoy each other's company," Percy answered, grinning a little. "You are more alike than you realize."

"Yes, well, we'll see," Annabeth said, letting a small smile slip onto her face.

Her best friend was back, and even with the war looming, even with everything they'd worked for looming over their heads, she couldn't have been happier in that moment.

She glanced at him with his big, sloppy grin, the stubble on his face, his bright green eyes and the way his messy black waves fell over his forehead, and _lord,_ she wanted to kiss him.

The thought surprised her so much that she froze. Where had that come from? Wanting to _kiss_ Percy?

She knew it was out of the question. They had just begun rebuilding their friendship… not to mention the trauma from the recent battle still lingering in his mind.

No, she couldn't kiss him. Not now, maybe – probably – not ever.

"We should probably get to bed," Percy said, unaware of her thoughts. Hopefully he couldn't see her flushed cheeks. "I'll walk you to your room?"

She nodded, and they sneaked back into the house, muffling laughter when Annabeth stepped a stair that creaked, or when Percy ran into a door in the dark. She hadn't felt this happy in months.

When they finally had navigated the dark halls to Annabeth's room, Percy drew her close, and Annabeth embraced him back.

"Goodnight, 'beth," he murmured, kissing her hair.

She could feel his heart beating against her ear, warm and loud and strong. "Goodnight, Percy," she whispered.

Annabeth watched him head down the stairs to his room with a small smile on her face. She knew, while long overdue, their talk wouldn't change things immediately. They had been fighting for almost three months; one night would not magically return everything to normal.

But talking – _apologizing,_ finally – had knocked down the wall of bitterness and anger they had been building for months. It would take work to rebuild their friendship, but they had been through a lot together; they could get through this.

There would be fights ahead, and arguments, and maybe it would take a while before they got back to where they were before, but for now…

She had her best friend back.

(And that was all she really needed.)

 **YASSS PERCABETH IS FINALLY BEING GROWN UP AND WORKING OUT THEIR DIFFERENCES INSTEAD OF IGNORING EACH OTHER LIKE FIVE YEAR OLDS *cough cough* Anyway, thanks again to Helena for editing. I love you, darling. :D Also I wrote a little HP one-shot the other day and it would make me so happy if you guys would check it out :)**

 **Shoutout to** TigerCat25 **for their sweet reviews on the last chapter! Seriously, I was really unmotivated on this story and you guys probably wouldn't have an update if I hadn't been inspired by their reviews, so yeah. Reviews are awesome and I love reading what you have to say! :)**

 **WM**


	19. i'll come back (when you call me)

**Hello friends! Sorry for the late update (and the short chapter). As you will see, the next chapter is going to be longer and will have a battle scene; I was debating whether or not to just add it to this chapter, but it would have been insanely long if I had. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

 **Song rec for this would be The Call by Regina Spektor. I'm going to try to start doing song recs for each chapter; if any of you guys have suggestions for this chapter or any chapter previous, let me know! :)**

 _May 3_ _rd_ _, 1775_

"…and so now Boston is being barricaded on both sides: from sea by the British navy, and on land by the colonial forces," Percy finished, gesturing wildly.

Annabeth gaped up at him as her nimble fingers tied a piece of thread around the bottom of her long braid. "But then how did we get into Boston?"

Percy ran his hands through his hair. "I knew you were coming back, so I told Paul Revere to let the troops know you were safe to let through."

"I must have fallen asleep while we were passing through and didn't realize," Annabeth admitted. Her features softened. "Thank you, Percy."

He smiled. "Of course."

"I guess this is one of the only times playing both sides is actually helpful," she said thoughtfully, breaking the slightly awkward silence. "With both sides at war in different entrances to the city, 'tis beneficial to know we can leave whenever we need to."

"True," Percy agreed, before quiet descended upon them again.

Only a few days after they had finally talked through most of their differences, things were still – well, not _tense,_ exactly, between them. Just awkward in a way their friendship had formerly never been.

But both of them had changed enormously in the three months they had been fighting, so Percy guessed it was normal. They were relearning each other, both remembering the old and finding out new things.

He glanced over at Annabeth as she shifted on the sofa. Though the spring days were quite warm, the nights still got chilly, and the fire in the parlor was welcome as they talked. Percy had listened attentively as she told him about what had happened in Williamsburg; though he reminded himself to thank Jason later for keeping an eye on her, he also couldn't help but be a little bit worried. He knew Annabeth could take care of herself, but so many things could have gone wrong that night.

And it was his own fault that he hadn't been there, his own fault that she had had to lean upon Jason for help.

 _Stop blaming yourself,_ he told himself firmly, cutting off his thoughts. _Annabeth told you, remember? Both of you are at fault._

It still hurt, though. Percy knew it would for a while: the fact that they were both too stubborn to forgive each other for so long had weighed upon him for weeks. It had multiplied tenfold, however, when they finally realized their idiocy and talked. They had wasted _so_ _much_ _time_ , and with the war beginning, well – Percy wasn't even sure how much time he had left. Any day a battle could begin and he could be called the front.

One bullet was all it could take, and he would be gone.

It wasn't so much for himself that he was worried, though. It was Annabeth, left behind. She would grieve for him, certainly – but what then? Would she put herself in even more danger to help the cause? What risks would she take when he couldn't protect her any longer?

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Remember when we went to my grandparents' house together last September?" she asked, her voice small.

Percy turned back to her, chuckling. "How could I forget? You almost died, Annabeth."

A grin flitted across her face. "I suppose that would have a way of sticking in your memory," she admitted. "But anyway – when I was there a few weeks ago, most of my time was spent outdoors on the plantation, and all I could think about was all the things we had done there last summer."

A picture of Annabeth in a soaking wet dress, her laugh echoing in the muggy woods, ran through Percy's mind. He smiled. "Yes, I can imagine. Remember when you tore your dress on the log while swimming, and we had to find a way to get you other clothes without anyone catching us?" he asked.

Annabeth's bright, clear laugh cut through the quiet. "And you wouldn't look at me because the tear had basically rendered my dress useless, and you were trying to hand me clothes while covering your eyes," she recalled, wiping her eyes.

"I was being a _gentleman,_ 'beth," he protested indignantly, trying to hold back his own laughter. "Have you ever heard of being respectful to a lady? Or just respectful of other people's _privacy_ in general?"

Annabeth scoffed. "Are you trying to remind me of the time I accidently walked into your room while you were changing? Because you have brought that up _many_ times already, Jackson."

Percy grinned. "I _wasn't_ going to bring it up, but…"

Annabeth swatted at him playfully. "Rude."

He felt his mouth twitch into a soft smile at the sparkle in her eyes, and he didn't even try to hold it back.

•

 _May 18_ _th_ _, 1775_

"Do you think I should use red or this dark orange for the sunset?" Rachel asked, weighing a tube of paint in each hand. Percy shrugged noncommittedly.

"Um, either one?" he offered.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Not hugely helpful, Percy. What do you think, Annabeth?" she asked, turning away.

"Probably the dark orange, gradually fading lighter," Annabeth answered, head bent over Rachel's sketchbook to show what she meant.

Percy hid his grin as he gazed out over the sea, swinging his bare feet in the harbor. Like he had always thought, once Rachel and Annabeth had made an effort to become friends, they got along famously. Both were intelligent, fiery, and _very_ independent young ladies who were interested in art and literature, things most women of the day cared little about.

Now, as had become their habit, they were at the wharf, watching the sunset and chatting. Although things had been a bit awkward between Rachel and Annabeth at first, not to mention the slight undercurrent of tension between Annabeth and Percy, the last two weeks had erased a large amount of it.

It was astonishing, really. Annabeth and Percy had fallen back into their old rhythm incredibly quickly, bantering and teasing each other at breakfast, spending time together, even going back to gathering information for the Patriots together.

Beyond simply the joy he felt being friends again, it gave Percy something to do. With the British Navy hemming in the wharf and the colonial army blocking past the Neck, there was not much that anyone in Boston could do these days. Although it had only been less than a month since the harbor had been closed, supplies were lowering and tensions rising. The British soldiers were tired of being barricaded into the city, and the citizens of the town were weary of the soldiers living with them, invading their houses, shops, and taverns.

At this point, Percy could hardly blame either side. It was only a matter of time until someone made a move, but until then, there was not much anyone stuck in Boston could do.

He shook himself from his thoughts as Annabeth's voice cut into his head. "…wouldn't you think, Percy?"

He looked up, blinking at her. "What?"

Rachel chuckled. "Look who isn't paying attention. _Again_."

Annabeth sighed, pretending to shake her head in despair. "Honestly, he has the attention span of an infant."

Percy scowled at the girls. "I _was_ listening, I just wasn't… listening?" he tried. Alright, that had sounded a lot better in his head.

The girls snickered, Annabeth's long blond curls bouncing next to Rachel's soft, frizzy ringlets. Even their _hair_ mimicked their wild personalities.

Percy sighed. This probably hadn't been his best idea, getting his two best friends as partners in crime. Honestly, what had he been thinking? Both of their dangerous wit and sarcasm combined in full force had to be illegal somewhere.

"Anyway, I was asking if you think there will be a battle soon," Annabeth continued, her expression growing grave. "We cannot simply stay in Boston forever. Eventually, one side will make a move, don't you think?"

Percy bit his lip. "I honestly have no idea," he admitted. "Though that seems likely, Major Pitcairn is being very secretive lately. I believe they are planning something, but…"

Rachel nodded thoughtfully. "Is there a possibility that the British will manage to break through the colonial army? If they decided to break through the barricade, I mean," she added, after a small pause.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't… I don't know," That was what was the main problem was, he decided; not _knowing._ Not knowing what would happen to the people he loved, to the colonies, to _him._ The mystery shrouding the future was maddening.

Annabeth, seeming to sense his thoughts, reached over and squeezed his hand. "I guess we shall just have to see," she said softly.

Rachel wiggled her eyebrows at their intertwined fingers and winked at him behind Annabeth's head with a grin that was _far_ too conspiratorial for his comfort. He ignored her and squeezed Annabeth's hand back.

"I suppose we will."

•

 _June 16_ _th_ _, 1775_

"A message for Officer Jackson," the young man announced, holding a lantern in the inky night as Hazel opened the Chase's front door. Percy, standing behind her, pointedly ignored how Hazel was suddenly twisting her apron nervously in her delicate hands, a small smile on her face, and the young man – what was his name, Frank? – gazing at the pretty young maid adoringly.

Percy raised his eyebrows, and Frank suddenly jerked back to reality, stuttering apologies as he quickly handed Percy the small, sealed envelope.

Grinning slightly, Percy scanned the note quickly, his grin fading as he read it. He crumpled the note into a ball and shoved it back into Frank's hand. "Listen to me," he said, meeting Frank's eyes with an intensity that made the boy cringe. "Burn this, and don't show it to anyone. Do you understand?"

Frank nodded, wide-eyed.

"Now," Percy ordered, stalking back into the house.

Hazel looked worried. "What's wrong, Perseus?" she chirped, and Percy felt himself soften.

"Nothing, Hazel. I'm sorry," he said quickly, offering a hasty smile as he grabbed the bannister. Hazel didn't look reassured as he ran up the stairs two at a time to Annabeth's room.

"Annabeth? You here?" he called, pounding on the door. "Open up."

He heard her feet pattering in the room, and sighed as he waited for her to open up the door. "Any day, now, 'beth," he called.

Finally the door opened. Annabeth looked annoyed and exhausted, her nightgown wrinkled and a robe hastily thrown around her shoulders. "'Tis time for bed, Percy," she said irritably. "What do you need?"

Percy lowered his voice. "I just got a message from Major Pitcairn."

Annabeth's sleepy eyes widened. "What about?"

Bobby and Matthew ran past them down the hall, shouting gleefully about something. Percy gestured to the door, lowering his tone even further as he glanced around anxiously. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Annabeth answered, still looking confused as she ushered him in.

Once she had closed the door, Percy began. "The message said that British troops are mustering for battle, Annabeth. _Tomorrow._ We will, apparently, be trying to take back Breed's Hill and perhaps even break through the barricade of Boston."

The blood had drained from Annabeth's face, and she sat down on her bed like all her energy had suddenly abandoned her. "What?" she whispered. "A battle?"

Percy nodded gravely. "And I have to fight. It isn't an option, not if I desire to keep my position as a spy."

"Your position as a spy won't matter if you're _dead,_ Percy!" she hissed. "You – you can't go. Tell them anything – tell them…"

"I have to, Annabeth," Percy said softly, sitting on the bed next to her and taking her hands in his comfortingly. They were ice cold.

She jerked away from his touch. " _No_. Percy, you can't go."

"Why the hell not?" Percy asked, beginning to get angry. "I'm sorry, 'beth, but since when do you have control over my life? I don't want to fight in this battle any more than you want me to. Do you think I want to be fighting with my friends and countrymen, watching them be injured and wounded? Do you think I want to be forced to shoot at the side I am truly fighting for, at men that I have grown close with over the past year?" He was nearly shouting now. "Do you think I _want_ this?"

It shocked him when a single tear ran down her cheek. "I'm – I'm sorry," she whispered, twisting her robe in her hands and refusing to meet his eyes. "I just… I can't lose you, Percy. Not again."

Percy understood what she meant. That time at her grandparent's when she had been burning with fever and almost dead – he hadn't known what to do. At that point they had only been friends for a few months, and yet he hadn't been able to imagine his life without her.

And now, after knowing each other for over a year, going through life-and-death situations together, weathering storms in their relationship and learning to forgive – he completely understood Annabeth's resistance.

He couldn't imagine what he would do if he lost her again, and therefore could put himself in her shoes.

But he had no choice.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth. I am. But you know I have to fight," Percy said quietly, touching her hand. This time, she didn't pull away, and instead hugged him swiftly, tightly.

Percy embraced her back, holding her like she was his lifeline. "You must stay here, where you'll be safe," he whispered in her ear. "Don't try to go to the battle." He felt a warm drop of water land on his neck, and pain flared his in heart.

But he still didn't let her go. "Promise me, Annabeth," Percy insisted, and his voice was dangerously close to breaking.

Annabeth sniffled as she pulled back. "I – I promise," she whispered.

Percy squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said quietly, relief flooding him. At least, no matter what happened to him, she would be safe.

She refused to meet his eyes as she stood up, chewing on her bottom lip. "You should probably go to bed."

Percy nodded. "Goodnight, 'beth."

Annabeth hugged him swiftly. "What time will you be leaving?" she asked.

Percy shrugged. "The note said the army will be assembling tomorrow morning at dawn."

She nodded, swallowing. "Alright. Please, _please,_ Percy. Be careful."

He tried for a grin. "You know me – my life and occupation is extremely safe."

Annabeth swatted his arm, trying for a laugh, but he saw she was close to tears behind her teasing grin.

He held her close and kissed her forehead gently, dreading the feeling that it was the last time he would ever hold her. "I'll come back, 'beth. I promise."

She smiled up at him, a stray tear making its way down her face. "I know."

 **Okie dokie! Hopefully the next chap will be up in a week or so, though no promises bc this is the last week of school before Thanksgiving break for me and I'm pretty stressed with school rn.**

 **Shoutout to Helena (as always) who is amazing and wonderful and catches all my mistakes (and also googles when paint tubes and streetlamps were invented and also where hot chocolate came from, bc she likes historical accuracy like that. Thanks, bae. xx)**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! Please leave a reviewww bc they are my life and really inspire me to write. :D**

 **WM**


	20. Marching On

**Hey guys! Sorry for the very long time in between updates (spoiler alert: I'm not dead.) I was planning to get this chapter out a long time ago, but then the holidays hit me like a brick, and in between music performances, semester exams, and everything else that comes with this time of year, my past month or so has been extremely hectic. I also wrote almost 50k words over the course of December, working on stories for my baes Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Mia (herecomesthepun). The stories I wrote for them are on my page if any of you guys would like to check them out (it would mean the world to me!) :)**

 **Song rec for this chapter:** ** _Soldier,_** **by Fleurie. Honestly, you guys HAVE to listen to this song while reading this, bc I listened to it on repeat while writing it (especially the first half), so. Listen to it. xD**

 **Anyway, here's the chapter! It's not as long as I would like, but I just wanted to get it out for all of you guys who have been waiting. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

 **•**

 _June 17_ _th_ _, 1775_

When he looked back on that moment, Percy remembered the drums.

Everything else was fuzzy with fear and uncertainty; his thoughts were hazy with exhaustion and worry. Percy glanced around, his eyes skimming over the hordes of soldiers with red coats and shiny bayonets, many of them his age or younger.

He trudged on, feet marching in time with the other thousands of boots hitting the road, head bowed.

He knew many of them would not be marching back.

Blackjack was noticeably absent; Percy wished he had his horse, but they had decided the more foot soldiers, the better. Horses, especially one with the temper of Blackjack, could be a liability in battle – or at least, that's what Percy had told Major Pitcairn.

It also might have had something to do with the fact that Blackjack was secure and happy in the Chase's stables.

 _Don't think about Annabeth,_ he told himself. _Just keep on marching._

He concentrated on the dust that rose in the early morning light, on the drummer boys pounding out a rhythm that echoed as the birds began singing, as the sun rose over the hills.

It felt like they had been marching for hours when another officer stepped next to him. "Officer Jackson."

Percy glanced up. Travis Stoll, a young officer only a few years older than himself, was walking alongside him, his tall, lanky form blocking the early morning sunrays. "Officer Stoll," he greeted the other man, nodding.

Travis kept his eyes trained forward, face solemn, stern; Percy was used to seeing him in the tavern, with a loud laugh and a wide mischievous grin. He had never seen Travis so serious, his brow so furrowed. Although he didn't know the other man that well, he knew that Travis had a younger brother back in England whom he loved deeply.

"What do you think will happen if you die?" the other man spoke softly, staring straight ahead.

Percy smiled tightly. "To be completely honest, I'm more worried about the people I'll be leaving behind."

"This is a fool's errand," Travis muttered. "When I signed up for the army – I thought I would be aiding my king, aiding in keeping these new colonies in check. From what I have seen in my time here…" he trailed off.

Percy nodded, catching the other man's eye. "I understand what you mean."

There was a pause, before – "I have a girl. Back in England," Travis divulged suddenly, eyes back on the road as they marched.

Percy looked up, letting a small smile curve on his lips. "What's her name?"

"Katherine. Katherine Gardner," he answered, his stern features softening. "We planned to get married before I was sent to the colonies. She vowed to wait for me until I got back." He paused for a minute, then continued. "She…she also promised to look after my mother for me. Mother's an invalid, and my father died years ago. Katie, my mother, and my brother are all I have left." He scuffed the toe of his boot into the dust. "What will happen to them if I die?"

"I am sure that your brother will do his best to care for your mother and Katherine," Percy said, not knowing what else to say. He wasn't friends with Travis – had never met him before they were sent to the colonies and worked together a bit. Somehow, the gravity of where they were going, of what could happen that day, had brought them together.

Travis turned suddenly to him. "If – if I don't come back today, can you – write them a letter and tell them what happened?" he asked, his eyes burning with a hope Percy couldn't bear to crush.

"I will," he said, nodding.

Travis fished something out of his coat pocket. "'Tis Katie," he said, a small smile appearing on his face as he flipped open the bronze, oval locket to show a miniature painting of a smiling, brunette young woman. "With the letter, can you send this back to her? And… and tell her I loved her. Until the end."

Percy closed Travis's fingers back over the locket. "You can tell her yourself," he said, softly, fiercely.

Travis bit his lip. "But – if I don't…"

Reluctantly, Percy nodded. "I will. I promise."

Travis looked satisfied, tucking the locket back into his pocket.

On impulse, Percy asked, "And if I don't come back – there is a family. The people I'm staying with. The Chases?"

Travis nodded, his smooth brow furrowing. "I know them. They have a daughter, do they not? And two young sons. Dr. Chase runs the apothecary and a mercantile on the wharf front."

Percy bit his lip, tripping over his next words. "The daughter. Annabeth. Tell her – tell her that I'm sorry. That I didn't come back."

Travis looked at him knowingly. "This Annabeth – do you…?" he left the question unspoken.

 _Do you love her?_

Percy knew what Travis was asking. He felt a lump rise in his throat and swallowed as he nodded. "I do."

Travis closed his eyes. "This war has hardly begun, and already it has taken so much from this world," he said softly.

Percy thought of the young men he had seen killed the day the war began; the blood, the deathly-pale skin, the scent of death and sweat hanging in the air. The wailing mothers, broken fathers, weeping women, sobbing children.

 _This is the reality of war._

He lifted his chin as a picture of Annabeth laughing flashed in his mind. "Then let us make sure it ends quickly," he said quietly.

"To stop this bloodshed," Travis answered, nodding. It was an unspoken promise.

 _To come home._

The drums pounded, and Percy closed his eyes.

•

By the time they reached Breed's Hill, Percy was already exhausted, emotion wearing on the little amount of sleep he got the night before. The soldiers lined up, bayonets flashing in the sunlight; Percy saw the rebel's defense at the top of the hill, a flimsy, makeshift type of fortress that looked like the slightest wind could knock it down – but it did the job.

He knew the rebels were short on gunpowder; just a few days before, Paul Revere had taken him aside, asked if there was any way to get them more. Percy had given all he could without causing any suspicion, but it was precious little compared to what they needed.

And suddenly, the shots began, and the world was filled with smoke and screams.

He still hadn't fired a shot when the redcoats went charging up the hill, those that fell being trampled by others. Everything was hazy with shouting and blood and death and Percy realized – not for the first time, but the reality of it just _hit_ him, all of a sudden – that he probably would not walk out of this.

It was as though his eyes were suddenly opened. What had before simply been a blur of smoke and bodies now was cannon and musket fire, every bullet flying from separate sides finding its mark in living, breathing flesh; now was friends and comrades – on both sides – falling to the ground, blood in the dust, _dying._

And then suddenly, he tripped over a red-clad body lying on the grass, and Travis's pale face, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, looked up at him and _no,_ Percy couldn't do this. It couldn't be happening, because Travis was healthy and well and _alive_ just a few hours ago, had a girl waiting for him and a younger brother who adored him and a mother struggling to survive without her son. He had people who _needed_ him, and now he was the one lying on the grass, blood dampening the grass beneath him and staining his coat a darker red.

Percy couldn't see from the tears in his eyes, and suddenly the screams and shouts and musket fire were a blur; the battle was just a haze, just a dream and all that he could see was Travis. All he could see was this man – this _boy_ – who had so much ahead of him, so much waiting for him.

And now he was reaching up, choking on his own blood, and Percy set down his musket and knelt to hear his comrade's last words, turning his face so the other man couldn't see his tears.

"The letter," Travis rasped, a little grin on his face smearing the blood that still dripped from his mouth as he quoted Percy's words from their earlier conversation. "Since… since I cannot do it myself."

Percy nodded, trying to smile, but his voice broke. "Of course."

Travis reached fumblingly into his coat pocket and pulled out the locket. "For – for Katie," he whispered, and Percy lost whatever composure he had left, feeling tears drip down his face and falling onto Travis's forehead as Percy cradled the dying man's head in his arms.

"I will," he said, and it was an unspoken promise. A promise to live, and find Travis's family, and tell his story.

Travis took one last shuddering breath, blood dribbling from his mouth, and then stared unseeing at the smoky sky. Percy closed the other man's eyes, feeling the weight of it in his fingertips, running throughout his whole body because this – _this_ was war. War was closing a friend's eyelids when he could not do so anymore, war was saying goodbye and not knowing if you would return, war was wishing for second chances and receiving none.

(War was marching on, and leaving your humanity in the dust.)

•

"Quickly! Get behind the barrier!" Percy heard one of the commanding officers shout. Travis's death hung weightily in his mind, but he ran numbly up the hill, his legs pounding in time to the drums with exhaustion.

The fighting had lasted for hours, and Percy knew that even if they took the hill, the British had sustained hundreds more losses than the Patriots. Injured and dead bodies in red coats sprinkled the hillside, many left in gruesome final positions, limps bent in strange ways, eyes staring unseeing at the sky.

As Percy ran behind the barrier, he expected to find hundreds of Patriot soldiers. Instead, there was simply the dead and dying, the other soldiers having retreated back.

Percy choked in the smoky air as he surveyed the wounded and dead bodies. Some were in blue coats, trademark of the colonial army; others – most, in fact – were in simply farmer's clothes, the muskets they were using heavy hunting rifles, sweat and grime on their faces.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could unsee the destruction. All these lives dead – and for what? A hill, one simple battle?

A familiar face caught his eyes as he opened them again. Dr. Warren, a friend of Paul Revere's whom he had met and worked with many times, lay on the grass near the barrier.

Percy ran to him, uncaring of who saw him, though not many British soldiers had reached the top of the hill yet. "Dr. Warren?" he asked, trying to ignore the large red spot staining the other man's torso.

He winced. "Perseus Jackson?"

Percy nodded, trying to smile. "Yes sir. 'Tis me."

Dr. Warren coughed, and Percy knew he was dying. "Keep… keep on fighting," the doctor said weakly. "For freedom."

Percy pursed his lips. "For freedom."

The man's head lolled in his arms, and Percy set him down gently. Another man dying in his arms; another man's life gone long before its time.

 _How many more?_

His time was interrupted as a flood of Patriot soldiers descended upon them. Percy readied his musket, though he knew he wouldn't shoot. These men were on the same side, though most of them didn't know he was anything besides a British officer.

The air had begun to clear, but suddenly it was filled again with smoke and cries and cracks of muskets. Percy coughed, trying to clear his throat from the smoke.

Then something hit him, and Percy felt a ripping pain tear through his body. His musket fell to the ground as he looked down and touched his abdomen.

His fingers came away red with blood, and Percy dropped to his knees.

He felt his head hit the ground, vision going fuzzy. In his hazy sight, he saw a young, slim soldier in a red coat run towards him and drop to his knees next to him.

"You'll be alright. I promise, Percy. Just stay awake," the young man said, and his voice was high and fierce and strangely familiar. Percy tried to search his mind, but between the pain roaring in his body and his hazy eyesight, he couldn't place it.

His vision going darker, the last thing he saw was the soldier taking off their hat and long blond curls falling out.

Annabeth's voice echoed in his mind.

 _I promise, Percy._

•

 _June 20_ _th_ _, 1775_

The next thing he knew, the world was a fog of hazy sunlight and blond hair. He concentrated all his energy on keeping his eyes open, on making the fuzzy images clearer.

He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared, and Annabeth was sitting next to him, dozing in a wooden chair. Percy took in his surroundings; he was at the Chase's house, in his bed.

The sun was shining in through the curtains, glaring brightly off the white coverlet. Percy glanced down at himself; he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his abdomen was bandaged tightly.

Before he could orient himself to what had happened and why he was back at the Chase's house, Annabeth's golden head made an appearance in his vision, her curls disheveled and dark circles under her eyes.

"Percy!" she cried, standing up. "You're awake." She hugged him, and Percy winced a little.

"Annabeth. Wounded," he reminded her gently, but hugged her back anyway because she was here and real and _safe,_ and then he remembered—

"You were at the battle," he said slowly as she pulled back. " _Annabeth—_ "

Annabeth stopped him, her lips pursing. "Before you get started, I would like to point out that you would be _dead_ if I hadn't been there."

Percy sighed raggedly. "Dammit, Annabeth! You could have been killed!"

"So could you! And like I just mentioned, you _would_ have been killed if not—"

"If you hadn't directly broken your promise to me?" he challenged. "A promise that you swore to abide by, to not go near the battle—"

She looked a little chastened, but her head was still high and the glint in her eyes was defiant. "I don't _regret_ what I did—"

"Well, you _should—_ "

"I did what I had to do to keep you safe," Annabeth argued stubbornly, crossing her arms. "I'm sorry that I broke my promise, but I will not apologize for _saving your life,_ you _idiot_ —" And then she was hugging him again, tears hot against his skin. "You would have _died,_ Percy," she sobbed. "I'm not about to let you get away from me that easily."

Percy sagged against her embrace, knowing he had lost. "I'm sorry, 'beth," he said quietly. It was hard to even think; between the flaring pain in his side to the smell of roses in Annabeth's hair, to the way her chest was pressed against his bare skin—

Too many distractions. He closed his eyes, concentrating on her voice as she continued. "I saw you, though. Right before you got hit. You were just _standing_ there, not even looking around for any random Patriots who were still shooting."

"I know," Percy admitted. "I know. I was being stupid, and reckless, but it just _hit_ me, Annabeth. Everything about the battle caught up to me in one moment, and I couldn't move."

Her tear-streaked face softened as she pulled back. "I understand, I _do_ , Percy, but you can't—" Her voice cracked. "You can't let your guard down like that. It was a sniper, and the bullet passed through on your right side. Some other officers helped me get you to my father, and we stayed up all night. There were… there were even times where we thought we had lost you, but…" she trailed off.

Percy tried to smile. "But I'm all right, 'beth. I promise."

"You've been asleep for three days," she said quietly. "I've been in here almost the entire time; every time your breathing got to faint to hear, or I couldn't see your chest rising and falling, I just felt this—this cold fear that turned my heart to ice in my chest, because I thought _he's dead. My best friend is dead._ "

He squeezed her hand, and his heart hurt for putting her through that. "I'm alive," he promised her.

Annabeth sat down on the bed, thumb still caressing his hand almost absent-mindedly. "I know," she said, and it sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. "I know."

They sat in silence for a little bit before Percy asked, "What were the results of the battle?"

"Oh!" she said, looking a little surprised. "Yes. The battle."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "It sounds rather like you're avoiding the question, 'beth."

Annabeth glanced down, playing with the edge of the quilt. She was biting her lip, and Percy tried not to stare. "The battle," she repeated, a shadow coming over her face. "Percy, it was a _nightmare._ "

Percy winced, the memories of what he experienced flooding back to him. He knew they would probably be haunting his nightmares for weeks in the future, and from the troubled look on Annabeth's face, he guessed that she was remembering as well. Yet another reason he hadn't wanted her to go anywhere near the carnage of the battle.

"Percy, the British took the hill, but they lost over a thousand men," she began softly, and Percy stared.

"A _thousand?_ " he asked, throat closing up, because while he was fighting for the Patriot's cause, while he hated the idea of a king of the ocean who knew nothing of the colonies' affairs and yet tried to rule it – he hated the idea of so many precious lives being lost even more. "A thousand," he repeated to himself, a little shell-shocked. Annabeth squeezed his hand, and he squeezed it back almost unconsciously.

"The Patriots, though they lost the hill, only lost about four hundred men, but—" she cut off. Percy understood—while it was better, less than half of what the British had lost, that was still four hundred lives lost. Hundreds of wives and families waiting at home for a father or a husband, a brother or a son, who would never come home.

They lost their lives, and for what? A new country? A right for freedom? Percy yearned for a right to be free, a right to live without every move he made governed by a faceless authority who didn't know, didn't care about the struggles he experienced, but. At what cost would it come?

"How many wounded?" he asked quietly.

"No one knows for sure yet," she replied. "Hundreds, at least. The town is full of both sides, and my father hasn't slept in days."

Percy felt a wave of guilt. Only a few days ago both she and her father had stayed up the entire night saving his life. Just one life—how many more could they have been helping? He wasn't worth their devotion. He wasn't worth Annabeth or her family's love.

As if reading his thoughts, Annabeth squeezed his hand, a little fiercely. "Don't start," she said, gritting her teeth. "I know you think you aren't worth being saved, being able to live, when so many others died, but you _are,_ Percy. You are."

Her words hit him like a brick, because she knew him better than anyone else on earth, and suddenly he remembered confessing his love to her at Christmas and her telling him it would never work.

She didn't even remember that night, but it didn't change the fact that she would never think of him the same way. It was never going to work, and he knew that.

Annabeth looked at him, still fierce, still waiting for him to answer, and he smiled at her. "I know, Annabeth." The war, the aftermath of the battle, everything in his life could wait for a little bit, if he got to stay here for a while with her. "I know."

•

 **And that's that! I made a resolution to finish this story by the time I get out of school in May (we have about 10 or so chapters left, I think?) and then I'll start editing. It's insane how much my writing style has changed since I began this thing, so I will be doing a TON of editing, especially the early chapters.**

 **Shoutout to AverageCanadian, who mentioned this story in an AN for their fantastic story Useless Wings a while back! I'm never on fanfic anymore except to post things so I didn't see it, but Mia mentioned it and then Helena sent me a picture of the AN so I could see it, so I just wanted to say thank you and you are honestly the sweetest thing. This update's for you. :)**

 **As always, everlasting thanks to Helena (GollyGeeWhiz), who edited this chapter for me. You're seriously the bestest, babe. ;)**

 **Hopefully I'll be getting back onto a semi-regular schedule with this thing, but no promises bc ski season is starting up and I don't know how much time I'll have to write. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! :)**

 **WM**

 **PS. Sorry about the confusion earlier! There was trouble with the chapter publishing but it's all fixed now! ;)**


	21. There's No Turning Back for Us Tonight

**Hello friends! Sorry for the late update. Ski season's almost over (racing finals are on Sunday, so crossed fingers!) but everything else is starting up, like music competitions, recitals, concerts, etc. Lots of practice and pressure. Anyway, finally got this chapter done, and I have to say it's one of my favorites, so I hope ya'll enjoy it! :)**

 **(Title's from _Check Yes, Juliet_ by _We The Kings_ )**

•

 _July 24th, 1775_

"…and Doctor Franklin will be announcing the beginning of the post office tomorrow," Paul Revere continued, folding his hands on the table.

Annabeth shared a look of delight with Percy, who was sitting next to her. His green eyes mirrored the excitement in her own, because finally, _finally,_ the colonies were going to have their own post office.

 _The American Post Office_ was the official title. It had been a project of Ben Franklin's for years now, and Annabeth had obviously heard about it before, but now the dream was becoming a reality. No more would the colonists have to worry about British officers going through their mail, reading letters and other mail that didn't belong to them. No longer would the colonists have to worry about their mail being lost, or forgotten, or stolen along the way and never reaching its final destination.

Instead, there would be riders whose main task would be to safely deliver mail across the borders of the colonies, working tirelessly to get every single piece of mail to its destination.

Annabeth was _thrilled_ about it, to say the least. She knew Percy was just as excited as her, judging by the way he hadn't shut up about it the past week and the gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward into the table, gaze boring into Paul Revere's. "Is there anything we can do to help, sir?" he asked eagerly.

Paul chuckled. "Well, that's what I came here to meet you about."

Annabeth glanced around the table where they were sitting. The three of them were at a tavern; it was late, probably almost midnight, and the only people left in the large room besides them were a tired-looking young woman wiping down tables, and the innkeeper himself, a well-known Patriot.

Annabeth pulled the hood covering her hair and most of her face tighter; Percy, almost unconsciously, did the same. The two of them would be in high suspicion if anyone saw them meeting with Paul Revere himself, but they hadn't had a choice. Paul Revere had contacted them and told them to meet him at the pub, and that it was highly urgent. That's all the information the two of them had been given.

"I need you two to substitute as riders for the postal route, just this once," Paul continued. "The riders who were going to carry the post were inexplicably— _delayed,_ shall we say."

Percy's face clouded in anger. "So they were either bought out or threatened so they wouldn't ride?" he concluded, leaning forward. "Paul, this is _dangerous._ "

Paul chuckled dryly. "More dangerous than what you're already doing?"

Annabeth couldn't exactly argue with his logic, though she saw Percy's fist tighten under the table. She bit her lip. "We'll do it," she said decisively.

Both men turned to her with expressions of surprise. "And here I thought I would have to convince you," Paul said, raising his eyebrows.

"What are you doing, 'beth?" Percy hissed. She elbowed him. Percy squeaked, rubbing his ribs and glaring at her.

"You two, although young, are some of the people I trust the most," Paul explained, and Annabeth felt a surge of pride. "This first attempt especially _must_ be successful, to show the people, both Whigs and Tories, that we do not need the King or his soldiers – no offense intended, Perseus—"

"None taken," Percy drawled, leaning back in his chair and playing with the gold buttons on his uniform.

Paul continued, "…to carry our mail up and down the colonies. If we can convince enough people to use the new post, then…"

"Then many more will be turned to the Patriot's side," Percy finished for him. "We understand that, Paul, but still—"

Paul Revere sighed heavily, the weary lines on his face causing him to look older than his years. "You know I would not ask you both if it wasn't completely necessary. You two are not only some of our top spies, but I care about you both. If we were to lose you…" he trailed off.

Annabeth faced Paul again, expression calm. "I already _said_ , we'll do it. So when do we get started?"

•

The plan was to leave early in the morning from Boston and carry the mail to New York. Annabeth knew that with just the two of them, taking back roads and riding horses, it would only be a few days—maybe a week, at most—there and back, but her parents were worried. She had told them that she was going with Percy to visit a friend, and she knew they suspected nothing, but. There was always the risk.

Annabeth quickly packed a small bag, surreptitiously pulling on a pair of Percy's old trousers under her dress. She knew that there was no way she would be able to ride side-saddle at the speed they would be traveling, and she knew Percy wouldn't care if she wore trousers, however improper it might be.

The next morning, they were off. They passed through the Neck with little drama, the pass Annabeth had had her father write for her getting them through relatively quickly. Annabeth's horse—which Percy had obtained from one of his officer friends—was a quick, glossy brown mare, and as soon as the two of them were on the long, abandoned roads in the woods, Annabeth made Percy stop.

"Stop?" he echoed, even as he slowed Blackjack down. The heavy bag of mail bounced against Blackjack's side. "Why?"

Annabeth pulled her old frock over her head and stuffed it into her bag. Percy blushed and turned around. She just rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of her father's jackets she had stolen, before getting back on her horse. It was gloriously freeing, being able to move without petticoats dragging down her legs. "Practicality," she answered reasonably. Percy still turned his face away from her, and his cheeks were the color of cherries in June. Annabeth got impatient. "Dammit, Percy. You've seen me in less than this!"

His cheeks turned even brighter crimson, which was a feat with his tanned skin, but finally met her eyes. "I just—aren't those mine?" he murmured.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows as they began trotting down the road again. "Yes," she said, raising her voice a little of the sound of the horses' hooves on the dusty road. "What of it?"

"Nothing," Percy mumbled.

She rolled her eyes again. "Right." Whatever was going on in Percy's head, she knew he wouldn't tell her, so she just slapped the reins and galloped ahead, sending Percy a bright smile over her shoulder. "Come on!"

•

The next few days were relatively uneventful. They stopped at tiny inns overnight, letting the horses rest in the stables. It was all fine until one night—when they were nearly in New York—the two of them pulled into an inn, and there was a gang of British soldiers inside.

Annabeth glanced at Percy worriedly. It was late, the sun having gone down hours ago, and she was tired and sore and ready for a bed, but. The soldiers were drunk, and already they were talking among themselves and sending Annabeth lewd glances.

Percy seemed to notice too, and his fists tightened, but Annabeth took his hand. "It's fine. Don't make a scene," she hissed, squeezing his fingers.

One of the soldiers approached, his walk a little crooked, and Annabeth smelled the whiskey on his breath. "Aren't you a pretty little thing," he leered, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Faster than she could blink, Percy had stepped around her and grasped the drunk man's arm in a vice-like grip. Although he was at least an inch shorter, his eyes were like ice. "Don't touch her," he said, voice calm and steady, but Annabeth could see the fury raging in his eyes, like a sea uncontrolled in a storm, and she felt a little bit of fear—not for herself, _never_ for herself, but for anyone Percy ever turned against. Anyone who ever had the bad luck to be on the other side when Percy let the devil in him loose.

The other man faltered. "Damn, I didn't know she was yours—"

Percy let go of the soldier's arm, giving him a sharp shove. The other conversations in the little inn had gone silent, everyone watching the exchange. "She's not my property," he seethed. "She's my best friend, my other half. She's my _wife,_ and if you or anyone else touch her again I swear to God I will—"

Annabeth's head was spinning a little bit as she put a gentle hand on his arm. "It's fine," she murmured. "Let's just get a room."

Percy tore his eyes away from the other man, and the soldier stumbled back to his other drunk friends, shaking his head.

Annabeth was still reeling from Percy's exclamation, but she managed to paste on a smile for the innkeeper, who had been watching the exchange with interest. "We'd like to get two rooms for the night," she said.

Percy stepped in. "One room."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, but exhaustion clogged her mind, and she didn't really understand what he had just said. She just nodded, and the older woman acquiesced, leading them upstairs. Annabeth didn't let go of Percy's hand and could feel him trembling in her grip.

The innkeeper opened a door and led them inside. Annabeth thanked her, and the woman left before the two of them could actually look at the room.

As soon as the door closed, Annabeth realized her mistake. They had been getting separate rooms all throughout the trip, for the sake of propriety, but—the innkeeper thought they were married, and Percy had confirmed it, apparently. They had been given one room.

With one bed.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, whirling around. "We're _married,_ now? And I suppose we'll both be sleeping in this bed?" She couldn't even imagine the scandal it would cause back in Boston, but in the backwoods of upstate New York, where no one even knew them…

Or at least, everyone in the building believed they were married.

Percy slumped. "I'm sorry," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't even think, I was so angry. He thought—at first he acted like you were worth nothing, and then he thought you were my _property,_ like I _owned_ you, and I just—I'm sorry, Annabeth. I snapped."

Annabeth had never seen him like this—chest heaving, hands shaking, all on her behalf. Protective, yes—angry, yes, but not like this. Not with the sea still swirling, raging behind his eyes, not with his shoulders trembling with exertion and anger.

"It's alright, Percy," she soothed, taking his hand. They would have to talk about this later, she knew, but not now. Not when they were both shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline, not when she was still reeling at the emotions that had swept through her when Percy called her _his wife._

His head snapped up. "The reason I got us one room was because—I was standing closer to his friends than you were, and I heard them discussing perhaps coming up to your room later, and…"

Annabeth shuddered a little bit, at the thought.

"I wanted to stay with you," he said, his voice a little softer.

She nodded, still shaking a little bit. "Thank you, Percy," she said. Later, Annabeth blamed the exhaustion, but in a moment of gratitude she lifted Percy's hand, their fingers interlaced, and kissed his knuckles softly.

His eyes darkened a little bit, but Annabeth could see that the raging waters had stilled, that the anger that had consumed him only a few moments earlier had retreated.

She forced her voice to be steady. "Are you—are you ready to go to bed?"

He nodded; neither of them brought any extra clothing, having no room to do so, and they had been wearing the same ones all week. Annabeth couldn't wait to get a real bath and a change of clothes, but it didn't really matter.

They quickly got ready to climb into the bed; Annabeth pulled off her shoes and stockings and washed her face with the basin of water that was left by the door. With the summer heat still stifling the air, she also made a quick decision to get rid of her dress, Percy's trousers, and her father's linen shirt.

It left her in conspicuously little, and she could feel Percy's eyes widen before he turned his head with a blush. A warm feeling spread over her, at the difference between Percy and the men downstairs. At the difference between respect and entitlement, between love and lust.

Percy stood up and pulled off his sweaty, stained shirt, and she didn't deny that she had to tear her own eyes away from Percy's bare back as he bent down to take off his shoes and stockings.

They both were in very little clothing by the time they finished—which, Annabeth told herself firmly, was completely for practicality's sake. It was a little awkward, as they climbed in bed together; Annabeth was hyperaware of _everything_ , from Percy's breathing to the fabric rustling against his bare skin, to the way the warmth of his body radiated over the cool sheets.

Neither of them used the coverlet, both far too sweaty to even think about being cold. Annabeth had opened the window, but even that just brought in more hot, sticky night air.

She tossed restlessly for a few moments, and heard Percy doing the same, until his hand found hers in the darkness. Annabeth touched his fingers, and Percy tried to pull away, but she held firm. She was still a little shaken by the soldiers from earlier, and honestly she just wanted some kind of comfort, some reassurance that someone was looking out for her.

Percy squeezed her hand, and they fell asleep like that, their hands intertwined between them. Annabeth forced herself not to overthink it—it was just something they did. Friends could sleep in the same bed, holding hands, right?

 _Right._

 _•_

They arrived in New York the next day, making it to a little pub in the middle of the bustling city. Percy and Annabeth proudly distributed their stuffed bags of mail, and were hailed as heroes within the tavern.

"To the _American Post Office!_ " the tavern owner yelled, raising his brimming mug of beer, and the entire pub shook with the answering shout.

It was incredible, Annabeth reflected; the people had been held in tyranny by the King's soldiers for so long, and now they could receive their mail without interference, without fear of others reading their letters or stealing money or other valuables.

It was relatively small, in the face of everything else the colonies were fighting for, but Annabeth knew it was one small step closer to freedom.

The journey back, thankfully, was uneventful. Annabeth was exhausted, and she knew Percy was too; over a week of riding almost all day, every day, was incredibly taxing to their bodies. The horses were fatigued as well, and the journey back was a little slower than the ride there.

Annabeth nearly cried, as they trotted up to her family's brick house and handed the horses off to a servant boy. Percy opened the door for her, and they were soon bombarded with questions from the twins and Annabeth's parents. Of course, her family thought she had been only a few towns away, visiting a friend, but the stories were easy enough to invent.

Afterwards, Annabeth was able to take a _bath,_ and it had never felt so good to scrub the dirt from her body and pull on a clean dress.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," she declared to Percy at dinner, her long hair still damp and her skin feeling like it was glowing.

Percy, also scrubbed pink, grinned. "I think I will, as well."

Annabeth let her eyes linger on his face, as he turned to speak to one of her little brothers. He looked clean, and younger, and more innocent now—like a child. She laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows animatedly, as his bright green eyes sparkled in the light, and she remembered the way they had churched with anger on her behalf. How they had darkened, his pupils blown, as she had kissed his knuckles.

Annabeth found his hand, interlaced their fingers under the table, and when Percy looked at her with a grin and raised eyebrows, she just squeezed his hand.

•

 _August 17th, 1775_

"Where are you taking me?" he whined.

Annabeth bit back a grin as she pulled him forward. "I told you, it's a _surprise,_ " she insisted hotly.

She knew that if his eyes weren't covered by a strip of cloth, he would be rolling them. "But I don't _like_ surprises."

Annabeth huffed. Percy was such a child sometimes. "Well, you'll like this one," she promised, and focused on where she was going. "Ah, yes, we turn here. Come on!"

He followed her, and Annabeth tuned out his grumbling as she ordered her thoughts.

It was Percy's birthday, and Annabeth had decided that even though Boston was low on food and everything else, she wanted to do something _special_ for him. Her mother had agreed to cook something special for supper, and it had been delicious, but Annabeth wanted to give him her gift alone.

"Almost there," she said, her voice a little nervous. The late summer sun was setting in the sky, and they were far enough outside the bustle of the town that Annabeth could hear crickets chirping and cicadas screeching in the distance.

They had reached their destination, so she stopped, and Percy did too, confused. "Can I, um. Can I take off the blindfold, now?" he asked awkwardly.

Annabeth stifled a laugh. "Yes, that would probably be a good idea," she said, untying it for him, but replacing the strip of cloth with her hands. "Now," she said softly, turning him so he faced the surprise. "Open your eyes."

She watched as he took in the sight before him, and then he began to laugh in disbelief. They were standing in a little meadow, a little ways outside the city. Annabeth had been here earlier, to set everything up.

"You—you made me cakes," he said, voice a little wobbly. "And you put blueberries on the top."

"Because blue's your favorite color," Annabeth supplied, twisting her hands together. "I've been saving the sugar for the cakes for _months,_ and I found the blueberries on a bush by the Neck, and they're a little early, but—"

" _Annabeth,_ " Percy said, cutting her off with a hug. "I—I love it. Thank you."

Annabeth's face was squished against his shirt, but she hugged him back, not really caring, because he _liked her surprise_ and it was his birthday and she loved him, her best friend.

Or maybe she was in love with him. It was kind of hard to tell, at this point.

"I'm glad you like it," she told him, a little bashfully, as she pulled away. "Happy birthday."

"It's amazing. Thank you," he said again, his eyes genuine, and Annabeth tried to still the fluttering in her heart.

They sat down on the grass, eating the little cakes Annabeth had baked, and talking and laughing. Annabeth thought absentmindedly that it was their own little corner of the world—the war didn't exist, the death and injuries the war had created didn't exist—nothing existed except the two of them, eating cakes until they were sick and laughing over nothing.

By the time they left, the sun was long gone in the sky, only the faint remnants of it lingering. Annabeth swung the basket she had packed the cakes in carelessly as they made their way down the abandoned cobblestone streets.

Annabeth was in the middle of laughing at something Percy said, when all of a sudden, he just _froze._ She stopped, confused; they had taken a shortcut through a narrow little alleyway, and the light from the street shone on Percy's face.

"What's the matter?" she asked him.

He didn't say anything, and Annabeth started to get a little bit worried. "Percy, are you alright?" she asked again, swinging the basket impatiently.

Percy took a step closer to her, his mouth moving like he was trying to say something, but wasn't quite able to make it work, and suddenly he strode forward and kissed her.

Annabeth froze, dropping the basket. It was too much, all at once, and before she even knew what to think Percy was pulling away, a look of horror on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning away, and his face, highlighted in the light of the street, was absolutely _shattered._

Annabeth was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that _Percy kissed her,_ and she knew it meant so many things—most of all, that he might have felt the same way she did, towards him, and she wanted him so much it hurt—and then she realized that she had frozen, hadn't kissed him back, and she knew what he must be thinking right now.

She grabbed his wrist, spinning him around to face her. "Percy, wait—"

His eyes looked wide and a little wet in the dim lighting. "I'm sorry, please—" he began, but she cut him off by rising up and kissing him, a little desperately.

It was like he was unconsciously waiting for her. As soon as her lips touched his, he kissed her back—bruising and a little desperate—and flipped her around, and Annabeth felt her back press against the brick walls of the alley, and she knew her dress was probably getting dirty, but she didn't care at all, because _Percy was kissing her._

It was entirely out of the normal range of affection, especially in public, and _especially_ for unmarried couples. Annabeth knew, in the back of her mind, that even married couples kept touching to a minimum in public, and she knew that if anyone happened to see them, it would cause a scandal that even Annabeth couldn't begin to imagine, but. It was Annabeth's first kiss, and it was _Percy._ Nothing else mattered.

He was pinning her against the wall, and she let out a little gasp as he began to explore. His mouth grazed under her ear, sucked a little on her neck, and Annabeth had never felt this way before, had never felt the unfamiliar heat curl inside her stomach, never felt shivers crawl up her spine as Percy kissed her jaw.

"Is this alright?" he murmured against her collarbone, and even as she whined a little, Annabeth felt a rush of affection for this beautiful boy, who would never do anything without her permission, would never continue if she felt uncomfortable.

"Yes," she whispered, letting her forehead rest against his. " _Yes,_ Percy, lord. I want it."

He laughed a little against her lips. "Good." And then he touched her side, fingers tentatively moving against her dress, and Annabeth shuddered. Never in her life had she been touched like this—this careful exploration that left her breathless and sagging against the wall, even as he held her up.

She unbuttoned his coat, and then slipped her hand under the hem of his linen undershirt. Her hand grazed his side, the bare skin smooth under her touch, and Percy let out a quiet groan. She sighed, fingers running farther up his chest, even as his hands traveled dangerously higher up her own; he sprinkled kisses all over her face, and she kissed his jaw, which made him shudder gracelessly.

They broke apart, breathing hard, and every one of Annabeth's nerves were electrified, standing on end, and all she wanted was more, more, _more._

She stepped into his arms, and they both just stood in the dark alley, holding each other. Annabeth could hear his heartbeat, thudding quickly against her cheek as she pressed her head against his chest, and she smiled.

"So…" Percy began, and stopped.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, even as her breath was coming in short, quick gasps. "So, I love you—I'm _in_ love with you," she said, and felt a wave of vulnerability wash over, saying the words out loud, because—

How long had she known? How long had she been in love with this boy? How long had she kept this secret from him, when all along he had felt the same way?

"I'm rather sure I love you too, so there's that," Percy said, and Annabeth was a little smug to hear that his voice was still a little bit shaking, a little bit breathless.

 _I did that to him,_ she thought. His lips were bruised and his hair was wild, pupils blown dangerously wide as he looked at her.

"Good," she said, and kissed him again. They would have time to talk, later, but for now—

He pulled back, breathing heavily. "Slow down, 'beth. Are you sure… I mean, this isn't exactly… _normal_ behavior for, um. Unmarried couples," he said, and Annabeth laughed at the blush coloring his tan cheekbones.

"Have I ever struck you as someone who follows all the rules?" she murmured, and in a moment of recklessness, let her hand stray down a little bit farther than his torso.

Percy, his hands against the bricks on either side of her head, sagged a little bit. " _Annabeth,_ " he said, and that was all she needed.

"Do you want to go home?" she asked, and he nodded.

Percy took her hand, and they ran the rest of the way to the Chase's house, shoes clattering on the cobblestones and the cool air form the wharf tousling their hair and ruffled clothes. By now, it must have been eleven o'clock, and the streets were deserted, and Annabeth let out a peal of laughter carelessly. Percy glanced over, from where he was running next to her, and a grin lit up his entire face, and Annabeth stopped and kissed him, just because she could.

They stumbled in the front door of the Chase's home, shushing each other, breathless with laughter and adrenaline. Annabeth led him up the stairs, and this time she was the one to pin him to the wall of the hallway and kiss him senseless. His fingers traced her collarbone, found their way the cool skin of her shoulder blades, and Annabeth arched her back as tingles ran up and down her spine.

"Your room?" he whispered as he pulled away, eyes bright and pupils blown.

Annabeth nodded, taking his hand, and led him into her bedroom, and he kissed her as she laughed a little, and tangled her fingers in his hair, before drawing back.

Annabeth met his eyes, and he nodded, like a question.

She squeezed his hand and closed the door.

•

 **YASSS we finally have Percabeth! (only after like a year and a half wow) XD but yes, hope you guys liked that! :)**

 **As always, thanks to my girls Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Mia (herecomesthepun) for being the awesome muses and all around cheerleaders that they are, and putting up with me making them read this thing numerous times to get their opinions. Also Mia for having GIF wars with me (which I always win cough cough) and Helena for being a Hufflepuff and trying not to get involved. Also Helena for BETAING THIS as always and doing a fantastic job. Love you guys! xx also check out their Percabeth stories if you haven't already bc they're INCREDIBLE**

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter and PERCABETH YASSSS kay bye :)**

 **WM**


	22. Nail in the Coffin

**Hello friends! Shorter chapter today, but I hope you guys like it anyway. :)**

•

 _September 14_ _th_ _, 1775_

Percy wiped the sweat from his forehead wearily. The constant din of animals and the mixed scents of sweat and dirt baked under the hot sun combined into an overwhelming environment, but Percy didn't really have much choice.

He waved his arms. "Bring that load over there! No, am I pointing in _that_ direction? _Over there!_ "

The confused-looking shepherd obliged, driving the herd of bleating sheep to the edge of the dirt road. The Neck was crowded with people, animals, and wagons today, and Percy and a few other officers were in charge of overseeing the deliveries.

 _The deliveries._ Over the numerous months since the harbor was closed and the Neck guarded, Boston had received very little food and other necessities, but word of the city's plight had begun to go around. Colonies all over the coast had begun sending gifts—rice from South Carolina, animals from the surrounding countryside, sugar from Georgia, and everything else Percy could have imagined from all the other colonies—and supplementing Boston's meager supply of food and provisions.

It was incredible. It really was. The generosity of people all over the coast—Patriots and Loyalists alike—to a city of innocent men, women, and children they had never even met was astounding.

However, it also meant that many people were required to stand in the hot sun all day, directing the loads of food and animals as they came through the Neck.

Squinting in the sun as he directed a wagon, Percy was so focused on the grueling task at hand that he didn't even notice a head of blond curls bounce into his field of vision until he turned around.

"Hello," Annabeth greeted him. Percy just beamed at her, taking her in—her cheeks, rosy and flushed from the sun; eyes bright and sparkling, despite the dust; blond curls mussed and sweaty.

It really didn't matter how many times he saw her; she never failed to make him catch his breath.

"Hello," he said softly, stepping toward her and all-too-aware of his fellow soldiers' conspicuous gazes on them.

 _Dammit,_ he really wanted to kiss her.

He restrained himself, though, for simply touching her cheek gently. Her eyelashes fluttered down, and there were freckles on her cheekbones.

"I brought you some dinner, if you can take a break?" she offered, swinging a woven basket that was covered by a cloth in her hands.

Percy's mouth watered; he hadn't had time to eat before he left early that morning. "I shall be back in a few minutes," he called to one of the other soldiers, before following Annabeth down the path. They walked for a few minutes, and Annabeth chattered about something she had been reading, and Percy just gazed at her adoringly as she talked.

They reached a little section of grass, far enough away from the bustling road to be somewhat private, but not too far. "So, what did you bring me?" Percy asked, taking off his bright red coat and laying it on the grass, allowing Annabeth to sit on it primly.

"Leftover biscuits from breakfast, and some ham from dinner last night," she said, unpacking the basket and handing him his dinner, wrapped in a napkin. Percy started eating hungrily.

Annabeth leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth of the sun. Percy glanced down as he chewed his biscuit.

 _So_. He and Annabeth were courting now.

It had started the night of his birthday, and the events that escalated from there. The next morning, Percy had asked Annabeth's father if he could begin courting Annabeth, and Mr. Chase had amiably agreed.

Percy knew that most couples didn't court for very long, instead choosing to get married as soon as possible, but. He was only twenty, and Annabeth eighteen. While he knew that many girls got married far earlier—some thirteen and fourteen—he also knew that Annabeth didn't feel ready for marriage, and he would never do anything to push her into something she was uncomfortable with.

Not to say he didn't _want_ to marry her, though. Percy would have gone to the priest within the hour, if Annabeth gave him the word.

She was his world, his best friend, his other half. The words he had spoken only a few months ago—when they weren't even courting—rang true every time he looked at her, every time she laughed.

He loved her.

"And so I was hoping that both Bobby and Matthew would enjoy reading, but Matthew seems to be a bit more of a book lover than his brother," Annabeth chattered on.

He pressed a swift kiss to her temple. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured into her skin.

She glanced up at him, surprised, but her eyes were bright. "I love you, too, idiot," she said, fond.

Percy glanced back up at the road as he stood up. "I should probably get back to work," he admitted, helping Annabeth to her feet and pulling on his dusty coat again. "Walk with me?"

Annabeth took his arm primly. "Certainly," she said.

As they reached the road, Percy did a double take. "Leo?" he hissed, pulling Annabeth with him as he walked briskly to where a slim farmer, wearing a large straw hat, walked near a wagon.

Leo turned to them, his face lighting up with a bright grin, and Percy got a vivid flashback of the last time they had seen him: riding out of Boston in the middle of the night on a horse, swearing that he would return for Calypso, the girl who had helped rescue him.

"My friends!" Leo called, hopping down from the wagon and trotting toward him, smiling from ear to ear. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Percy asked, spreading his hands. "Leo, this is _dangerous._ What if someone recognizes you?"

He smirked at them. "I'm not going into the city, Jackson. My friend here—" he gestured to the wagon, where another young man waved at them from the seat, holding the reins boredly. "will be bringing our load into the city, and then pick me up again here on the way back."

Percy nodded, satisfied. "So how have you been?" he asked eagerly. "What have you been doing, since you escaped?"

"I've been in Virginia. Williamsburg, to be exact," Leo supplied, tapping his fingers restlessly on his sweat-soaked linen shirt.

Annabeth, still holding Percy's arm, jumped into the conversation. "Really? I was in Williamsburg last spring. What have you been doing?"

"Mostly carpentry work at first, but recently I was hired at a blacksmith's shop, and the owner's taking a liking to me," Leo said. He looked like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but Percy could see the happiness and hope beaming in his dark eyes. The hope for a future, the hope of a new life.

Annabeth nodded. Percy, distracted, watched her curls bounce. "Stay safe, Leo," she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Leo's bright grin faded, and he grasped her hand solemnly. Percy knew that despite his cheerful gaze, Leo knew the consequences and risks of the war. If just one person recognized him, if just one person had known him before he left…

Percy shook the young man's hand vigorously. "Godspeed on your travels back to Virginia," he told him.

Leo nodded, the grin returning to his face. "Thank you both. I owe you my life."

Percy smiled. "We were happy to do it." They waved farewell, and Annabeth took Percy's arm again as they walked.

"I'm happy for him," she said, kicking dust up as she walked. "He has a whole new life now—a job, a home."

"I wonder if he ever went back for Calypso," Percy murmured, half to himself.

Annabeth shook her head. "I doubt it. Going back into the city would be hugely dangerous for him; even if he wanted to, I don't think he would even have a choice."

Percy sighed heavily. "I wish we could have done something to help her, you know?" he asked quietly. They had almost reached the other soldiers, clad in their sweaty, crimson coats, and Percy lowered his voice. "Being trapped in a situation like that…"

Annabeth squeezed his hand. "There was nothing we could do," she reminded him softly. She leaned up and kissed his cheek swiftly. "I'll see you tonight?"

He nodded, smiling. "Farewell."

Percy watched her as she walked down the road, wistfully wishing he could follow her. His thoughts were interrupted by a large hand clapping on his shoulder.

"Come on, man! Back to work!" one of his fellow soldiers bellowed, fat face red from the heat.

Percy sighed, turning around and beginning to direct the hordes of loaded wagons and animals. Back to work, indeed.

•

Later that night, Percy chuckled as Annabeth began shoving food into her mouth. They were at a tavern for supper that night, and he was sweaty and dusty from his exerting work at the Neck all day.

"What? I'm _hungry,_ " Annabeth protested. Her voice was muffled by the food in her mouth, which made Percy laugh harder.

He raised his hands in surrender, grinning. "I didn't even say anything!"

She scowled at him, as she chewed a bite of bread. "You were _thinking._ "

"According to you, I don't think very much, so technically that's an improvement," Percy pointed out.

She stomped on his foot under the table, her nose wrinkling in a scowl. Percy thought she was adorable.

"That was such an intelligent argument, right there," he said, eyebrows wiggling. Annabeth's answering glare was probably hinting that he was _asking_ to be hit, but.

Annabeth finished chewing her bite and opened her mouth to reply to his teasing, a smile flitting on her lips, but suddenly a shout came from outside. Percy glanced towards the window and saw a large crowd gathering.

He looked back at Annabeth to see her brow furrowing. "I wonder what's happening."

Percy shrugged and got up from his seat. "Only one way to find out," he said.

He took Annabeth's arm and together they went outside, into the warm, dusky air. It was a beautiful night; the sky was still alight from the magnificent sunset, and the air was warm and sweet, with just a hint of chill to remind him that autumn was coming—and soon. The last throes of summer hung in the air, as though waiting for winter to come chase them away.

He followed Annabeth out the door, and what waited for them was a nightmare.

A large crowd, growing bigger by the second, surrounded a throng of British soldiers, and they encircled a man, bruised and bloody, like he had been beaten.

Percy felt sick. He knew what this meant—the soldiers had captured a deserter or a spy, and were now taking him to the town square to be executed. He wondered if he knew the unfortunate man; if he had seen him at camp, or talked to him on an assignment or training. The group of soldiers drew closer to where he and Annabeth were standing, until the crowd had pushed them only a few feet away.

Next to him, Annabeth let out a horrified gasp. "Percy—look. It's—"

Leo Valdez raised his head, blood streaming from his nose and dripping off his chin in dark droplets, and his face dark with bruises.

Percy closed his eyes. So he had been caught—so Leo hadn't been as careful as he should have been, so he had entered the city and been recognized.

The soldier currently holding Leo's arm glanced over and saw Percy. "Jackson, get over here and hold this scum for me," he barked.

Percy glanced around and scurried over, Annabeth following him. "Leo, what did you _do_?" he hissed, quiet. "How did you get caught?"

Leo raised his head, looking a little dazed at their sudden presence. "I made a promise," he rasped, "and I intended to keep it."

Percy closed his eyes wearily. "You went back for Calypso?"

" _Leo_ ," Annabeth breathed. Percy glanced over, saw tears running down her cheeks. He felt like crying himself, but he held his own tears back.

"I was helping her leave, but her father saw me, recognized me. He brought me to the camp, and I was arrested and sentenced to—sentenced to death, for desertion," Leo continued.

"I told you not to enter the city!" Percy snapped, his vision blurry from tears and his voice a little choked. "Dammit, Valdez, you had a _life_ , a new life and a home and a place to work. You had freedom to live, and you came back—for what?" He spread his hands. "To get caught? To die?"

Leo's gaze was unfocused, looking at something behind Percy. Percy glanced back, and saw Calypso, standing inconspicuously on the edge of the crowd. She was pale and silent, and tears made their way down her marble cheeks as she watched the spectacle.

Percy turned back to Leo abruptly. So she knew. Calypso knew there was nothing she could do, nothing he and Annabeth could do.

"I had to try," Leo said, fierce. Then softer—"I had to try."

Percy shook his head. "I am sorry, my friend. Sorry it had to end this way, sorry I am unable to do anything—"

"'Tis not your fault," Leo replied, his words a little slurred from the cut on his mouth. "I made my choice."

Annabeth was sobbing now, as she reached down and took Leo's hands. "Goodbye, Leo," she said, voice choked.

Leo's face softened a little. "Goodbye, Miss Chase. Thank you for everything you did for me."

She nodded and pulled back, blinking back her tears.

The soldier from before came back and pulled Leo roughly to his feet. Percy took a step back, and pulled Annabeth into his arms. The large crowd surged forward as the soldiers tied Leo to a post in the middle of the square.

The drums started. Percy knew, when they stopped, the firing squad would let loose.

Annabeth was sobbing openly now. Percy, blinking back his own tears, pulled her closer, turned her face away from the awful sight.

The drums stopped, and the six men fired, the shots echoing in the air. Leo's body hung limp against the pole, and the crowd went eerily silent.

Percy hugged Annabeth against him, felt her tears soak through his shirt and her shoulder shaking with silent sobs. They didn't even know Leo that well—just a few days altogether, really. But his death was just another nail in the coffin, another personal vendetta they held against the king: a king who would execute people for wanting a new life, a different life—

"I hate them," Annabeth's voice, soft and muffled, came from where her face was pressed into Percy's chest. "I _hate_ them, Percy, I hate them—"

Percy rested his chin on her head. "I know, 'beth." He closed his eyes. "I know."

•

 **And that's that! Thanks to Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) for betaing this and doing a terrific job (like always).**

 **Also, to** **TheClassicWeirdo** **[guest] who asked who some of my favorite fanfics are… okay, so obviously anything my baes Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Mia (herecomesthepun) are absolutely lovely, so I would recommend checking out their stories. I also really love** ** _Impossible Year,_** **by Bananannabeth, and** ** _I've Got a Boy_** **by flyingcrowbars.** ** _Stucco Hearts_** **by writergirl8 is incredible, and** ** _would it really kill you (if we kissed)_** **by greenconverses (on AO3) is honestly just amazing, even though it's not finished yet (I think she's planning to update it relatively soon, so stay tuned for that on her AO3/tumblr!) Those are just the tip of the iceberg though, really—basically just go through my favs list; I don't save anything corny or weird, and all the ones on my favs list are definitely things I would read again/recommend to anyone looking for an amazing story.**

 **Thank you to all of you guys for reading, and please leave a review! :)**

 **WM**


	23. Christmastide

**hello! wow, okay, so. I probably owe you guys an explanation for why I haven't updated in legit like 8 months? it's honestly not that much tbh. I basically just got super busy with school and other writing projects and this got pushed to the side. Over time I lost motivation for it, especially bc like I said, I have a couple other big writing projects going on right now (which i will eventually post don't worry lol) and yeah. i probably wouldn't have actually finished this anywhere near the foreseeable future eXCEPT that there were some awesome reviewers who messaged me and pushed me to finish this. thanks for that y'all. i needed it.**

 **ok now onto the chapter woot woot**

•

 _December 25_ _th_ _, 1775_

Annabeth woke up on Christmas morning to snow falling gently outside her window.

She shook her head as she sat up, pulling the quilt close around her shoulders against the chilly air. The snow—soft, pure, sweet—was a stark contrast to the last few months in Boston. Ever since Leo had been killed for deserting, Annabeth had been having nightmares almost every night, seeing Leo's face in her mind, remembering the way Calypso had stood in the crowd watching her only hope of rescue die, because of her. The other girl's pale, stricken face and the way she had held herself—like she was trying to be strong, trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, but any minute she was going to collapse under the strain—haunted Annabeth in the night, mixing the memory of Leo's blood on the cobblestones and the shouts of angry townspeople, echoing over and over and over.

Some nights it was worse than others; some nights she remembered the battle, remembered going after Percy and not even thinking about what could happen to herself. Some nights she remembered the wound in Percy's abdomen, and saw his grey face—so still—on her father's operating table again, her father's hands covered in blood as he did everything he could to save him.

And Annabeth knew, she _knew_ that her father had done it. That Percy was safe, and healthy, and _alive._ But on those nights, in those dreams, he wasn't; he drew his last breath on that bloodstained table and Annabeth would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat.

Oftentimes Percy would hear her, or maybe he was awake with his own nightmares; Annabeth never really knew for sure. She only knew that he often eventually came into her room in the middle of the night, waking her up from her unconscious screaming with soft words and the touch of his cool, gentle hands stroking her forehead.

She stared out her window, watching the snow blanket the earth and remembering what it was like when she was still innocent, still unknowing to the horrors of war.

Suddenly the snow outside on the street was covered in blood and bodies, and Annabeth, horrified, stared at the awful sight for a minute before she screamed, bringing the quilt around her with violently shaking hands. She looked up, and Percy was at the foot of her bed, and there was that same, gaping wound in his side, blood pouring onto the white coverlet.

He looked at her, eyes glassy with fever and pain, and opened his mouth to say something, but then he exhaled, and the life left from his body before he could. Annabeth reached for him, but her hand passed through air, and she was falling, falling, falling into blackness, and then—

Suddenly she was at the square again, and it was snowing. Leo was tied to the pole, facing the firing squad as snowflakes drifted down from the heavens—but then his face changed, and it was Percy lashed to the pole, Percy riddled with bullets and blood streaming from his lifeless body, and Annabeth _screamed_. She fell to the ground, still staring at his limp form tied to the pole, because she would never see Percy again, he was _gone—_

"Annabeth! Annabeth, _wake up,_ " someone said, and Annabeth gasped, choking on her own breath as her hoarse throat tried to push out one last terrified scream. She tried to sit up, the quilt sliding from her sweat-slicked shoulders as she tossed and turned desperately, still half-caught in the nightmare.

Large hands grabbed her flailing wrists, pinning her to the bed as the soothing voice continued. "Annabeth, I'm right here. I'm right here."

Her head whipped around frantically towards the source of the voice in the pitch-darkness of her room, her tears spilling. "Percy?"

He pulled her close, her head against his bare chest. "I'm right here," he repeated.

"You were dead," she gasped, breathing speeding up again. "You were _gone,_ Percy, you were in the square and the bullets and—"

Percy took her hand gently and pressed it against his chest. Annabeth sagged, feeling the strong, steady heartbeat pulsing against her fingertips. "I'm alive," he told her softly. "It was just a dream."

Slowly, carefully, he leaned back with her still against his chest until they were both lying down on the bed, Annabeth still quaking in his arms. Percy's fingers trailed against her sweaty face, brushing back her matted curls and pressing long, lingering kisses to her forehead until she calmed.

"Was it… was it a bad night for you, too?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room was beginning to recede, the faint edges of the sun peeking over the horizon outside Annabeth's window.

"Yes," Percy admitted, just as soft. "I was already awake when I heard you screaming."

Annabeth nodded, not needing to say anymore. It had been this way the past few months—one of them hearing the other screaming in the night and going to their room, without a thought of propriety, until they both fell asleep together. Annabeth's parents had protested at first when they found out, but as Annabeth grew pale and listless from lack of sleep, Mrs. Chase had pushed Annabeth's reluctant father into agreeing not to mention it.

And here they were, suffering through the same night terrors that had plagued the both of them for over two months.

Annabeth gazed silently out the window as the sun came up, feeling the dried tears on her cheeks and Percy's thumb, almost absentminded, rubbing circles on her shoulder.

It was snowing.

She craned her neck a little to see as the sun rose and illuminated the street, white with a blanket of fresh white snow. In her mind's eye, Annabeth got a sudden vision of her dream again—the pure white snow littered with blood and bodies, and Percy's body tied to the firing pole as snowflakes fluttered down from the heavens.

Feeling her tense, Percy pressed a kiss to her hair. "It's alright," he said again, voice rough from exhaustion.

"It's Christmas," Annabeth said suddenly. "Percy, it's Christmas."

Percy laughed a little darkly as he pulled the quilt back up around their shoulders and settled down next to her, his eyes already closing. "Merry Christmas to us."

•

Annabeth woke up a few hours later to Percy's loud snoring in her ears, the morning sun shining through the windows onto the rumpled quilts. Percy's warmth permeated the entire bed, and Annabeth smiled a little bit, settling back down onto the pillows and feeling her skin slick with sweat from the human furnace next to her.

At her movement, Percy snorted, then stirred. "Annabeth?" he asked groggily, sitting up as the sheets fell down, revealing smooth, bare skin. Annabeth did _not_ let her gaze linger, instead turning her head pointedly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Merry Christmas."

He smiled sleepily, running his fingers through his thick, messy hair. "Merry Christmas." He looked up and sniffed as he reached over and pulled on a linen nightshirt that _somehow_ had ended up next to Annabeth's bed. "I smell breakfast."

Annabeth breathed deeply, the scent of sweet hotcakes meeting her nose. "Mother has been saving the sugar for months just for today," she told Percy, untangling their legs under the sheets and sitting up. Ever since the harbor blockade, sugar had been scarce in Boston. Families had been forced to ration all their provisions, sugar most of all.

Percy groaned, flopping back into bed. "Remember when we used to be able to just—have sugar? Like candy sticks, and sugar in tea, and _cakes—_ "

Annabeth grinned as she pulled off her mobcap, shaking out her long, tangled curls. "Like last year, when we went to the governor's Christmas ball together. Remember the stacks of fruit cakes, and punch, and _hot chocolate—_ "

Percy was silent, and Annabeth turned around to find him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Is something the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"No, I just—" he shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. "I was remembering the ball last year, and—something happened, that I've been meaning to tell you about."

Annabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he took a deep breath. "You were a little drunk, I think—you drank too much champagne, and we were both exhausted. And then we went outside, but our coach wasn't there, for some reason, so I carried you home."

"That, I remember," Annabeth laughed. "I was so tired, and then we were talking…" she frowned. "I don't remember what we were talking about."

"I do," Percy said, and something in his voice gave Annabeth pause.

"You do? What did we talk about, then?"

"I, uh," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, and his cheeks were tinged with red. "I told you how I felt about you."

"You mean…?" Annabeth asked, already knowing the answer.

"I told you I was in love with you," Percy confirmed. "It was… incredibly bad timing, I suppose. We were both drunk—though you more than me—and I wasn't thinking straight, and I just completely rambled and—"

"But what did I say?" Annabeth pressed, a little shell-shocked.

"You said that you loved me, too," Percy said. "But you also said that we couldn't be together, because you were too afraid of losing me. And then…" he shook his head. "The next morning, you didn't remember any of it. And part of me was glad, because I had made a complete fool of myself and risked our friendship at the time, but the other part of me… I kind of wished that you did remember, that you knew how I felt about you and the fact that I now knew you felt the same. But it always came back to that—you not wanting to be with me because of the threat of losing me."

Annabeth was silent, because—it was still true. She was _still_ deathly afraid of being with Percy the way they had been the past few months; afraid of opening up her heart to him, because they'd been lucky, so far; they had both had brushes with death, with danger, and yet came out of them alive. Maybe not unscathed—Percy still had the physical scars to prove it, and both of them bore the mental scars that their experiences had left—but _alive._

And if she were to lose him now, she honestly didn't know what she would do.

But on the other hand…

"It's true," she began carefully, coming around to the other side of the bed and sitting next to Percy. "I was—I _am_ afraid that I could lose you. I don't know what I would do if—if you died, if I didn't have you anymore."

Almost unconsciously, she reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers.

"But I'm willing to take that risk—that risk that one of us, or even both of us, could die," Annabeth said, "because I want _—_ Percy, I _want_ to be with you. The war, the world, is honestly rather terrifying right now, but I'd rather face with you— _together—_ than alone."

Percy suddenly lifted their interlocked hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "As long as we're together," he murmured.

Annabeth squeezed his hand wordlessly, and together they went downstairs for breakfast.

•

"Remember that time when Annabeth was riding Blackjack, and she…" Percy began, and Thalia burst into laughter.

"And she accidently went by the laundry line with all the sheets on it, and Blackjack spooked?" Thalia gasped, remembering.

Annabeth huffed, crossing her arms. "I was _terrified,_ and you both were just laughing your heads off. _Unhelpfully_."

Percy wiped his eyes. "To be fair, you were screeching as Blackjack galloped down the street, his head wrapped in a white sheet. It was hilarious."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "It might have been a _little_ amusing," she admitted. "But still. I could have died, you arse!"

"Annabeth," her stepmother chided. "Please don't use that language at the dinner table."

Thalia smirked, patting Annabeth's hand. "I'm sure you would have thought of something if Blackjack hadn't dumped you in the pond first."

Annabeth responded hotly, and Percy leaned back, crossing his arms as he listened to their playful banter. The Chases had invited a newly-married Thalia and Luke Castellan for Christmas dinner, allowing Annabeth to catch up with her old friends. While Percy enjoyed the company of Thalia immensely, he and Luke were still wary around each other, although for what reason Percy didn't quite know. Luke knew he and Annabeth were together, and Luke himself was _married;_ Percy had absolutely no reason to be jealous of Annabeth's close childhood friend.

And neither did he have any reason to be suspicious of the man—but that didn't stop his mind from considering all the possibilities that Luke could be up to, from spying, to a secret British officer, to a _traitor—_

And then he would remind himself that he himself was a well-known British officer, and a spy, and a traitor to his own country. Things weren't always as they seemed.

Carefully, he watched as Luke and Mr. Chase discussed something in low tones, and as Mrs. Chase reprimanded one of the twins for not eating his supper. Percy laughed a little, making a face at the boy when Matthew dropped his food below the table as soon as his mother wasn't looking.

The night passed by in a blur of talking and laughter, Annabeth's hand in his under the table and her smile sparkling at him in the light of the candles. The family eventually moved from the dining room to the sitting room, where Luke and Mr. Chase worked together to build a roaring fire in the fireplace as the little boys ran around them, giggling. Percy chatted with Mrs. Chase about the meal, since his mother had taught him a bit about cooking back in England, and Thalia and Annabeth talked softly on the couch, Annabeth's head leaning on Thalia's shoulder.

Percy _loved_ Christmas. The candles flickered and the sound of music and laughter rang in his ears as the Chase family and friends put aside their differences for the night, losing themselves in the joy of good food and even better company. He missed his mother back in England, with the delicious plum pudding she made every year, and the carols they sang the fireplace, but. With Annabeth by his side, he felt at home right here.

The twins fell asleep on the sofa after a few hours, and Thalia and Luke eventually for home, departing with many warm embraces and farewells. Percy shook hands with Luke, both of them smiling genuinely, and Percy decided that maybe Christmas really was a time for miracles.

After Mr. and Mrs. Chase retired to bed, Annabeth grabbed his hand. "Come to my room?" she asked. "I have something for you."

Percy grinned. "As long as I can stop by my room first. I have something for you, too."

"Meet me in a few minutes," Annabeth said, giving his hand a quick squeeze, and they went their separate ways. Percy grabbed the small package from his bedroom and quickly walked down to hall to Annabeth's.

She let him in, and he immediately noticed that she'd changed from her dress into a nightgown and a red robe over it. Percy locked the door behind them, knowing that if anyone happened to come in—

Annabeth patted the bed next to her, and Percy sat down. "You first," she said eagerly.

Percy smiled at her excitement and pulled out his package. "Remember how, a few months ago, you mentioned that you wanted a painting of me?"

"Yes, but paintings are so expensive, and—" Annabeth's eyes widened as Percy pulled out the package. "You didn't!"

"It's only a miniature, so you mustn't worry about the cost," Percy told her quickly. "But I just thought—it would be nice for you to have, in case—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Annabeth whispered fiercely, grasping his hand. Her eyes in the dim flickering of the candle were luminously grey. "We're safe, and we're here, and we're _together._ For now, that's all that matters."

Percy nodded, forcing his mind from what was rapidly becoming inevitable, and kissing her forehead. "So, do you like it?"

Annabeth opened the package and took it out, gasping. "The locket—"

Percy held it up for her, the light glistening on the silver chain. "It was my mother's. She gave it to me to eventually give to my future…" he trailed off.

Annabeth's eyes were mischievous. "Your future what?"

"Nothing," Percy muttered, his cheeks heating up.

"Your future wife?" Annabeth asked, intertwining her hand in his.

He nodded. "I know we aren't married, and we haven't—we haven't even really talked about it, with everything else going on, but. I want to marry you, Annabeth. We're of the marriageable age, and many of my friends were married younger. I'm not saying it has to happen anytime soon, or that you even have to say yes, but—"

"Perseus Jackson, are you proposing to me?" Annabeth asked, teasing.

He leaned forward, kissing her. "I guess I am," he murmured as he pulled away.

"Then I guess I'm saying yes," Annabeth replied softly, her soft smile blindingly bright. "I don't know when, or how, but Percy— _yes_ , I will marry you."

Percy choked out a laugh and pulled her closer, her head resting on his shoulder. She held him tightly, and they rocked silently for a few minutes. No words were necessary.

After a little bit, Percy pulled back, wiping his eyes inconspicuously. "So, you said you had something for me?"

Annabeth began laughing. "Um, yes. It's a bit humorous now." She pulled out her package and handed it to him, and Percy opened the box, a little puzzled at first, until—

He began laughing too. "You got me a miniature of yourself."

"I guess our thought processes were rather similar," Annabeth giggled. "But yes. It's a locket on a chain, see, so you can wear it under your uniform. In case—" she trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.

 _In case you have to leave again. In case you leave and don't come back to me._

Percy kissed her gently. "I love it. Thank you."

"Stay with me?" she asked, her voice small.

"Of course," Percy replied, and he blew out the lamp before pulling the quilt over the two of them, Annabeth cuddled into his side.

And despite the nightmares, both in their heads and outside in the streets, Percy was content to never move. Annabeth was in his arms, and her breathing was soft against his neck, and for that one moment in time, he was able to protect her, to shield her from everything that was coming.

Because war was on its way, and he knew they didn't have much time left.

•

 **i'm literally so happy that's finally posted i wrote like half that chapter back in june and then it just sat? unfinished? for like 6 months? oh well at least it's up now**

 **pls review and let me know what you think seriously reviews actually motivate me bc that means people are actually reading this and I need all the motivation I can get lolz**

 **shoutout to helena (as always) for reading over this chapter and making it 100x better. love u lots girl xx**

 **side note: i wrote a percabeth long oneshot for helena (GollyGeeWhiz) called** _ **this is what it's like when we collide**_ **go check it out and tell me what you think please and maybe even leave a review/fave srsly i will love you forever**

 **anyway that's that! i'm trying to get back on some sort of updating schedule and so maybe look out for an update next week sometime? maybe? we'll see *crossed fingers***

 **k byyyeee**

 **wm**


	24. Trust

•

 _January 17_ _th_ _, 1776_

Annabeth was acting strangely.

Percy had been noticing it for days now, and though he asked her about it numerous times, she kept denying it. Every time he tried to talk to her, she'd ignore him, or change the subject, or start talking to someone else. She was obviously upset with him, or with something he'd done or said. Percy honestly didn't know. But after a week of a silent, unspoken war, Percy had had enough.

"What the _hell_ is the matter, Annabeth?" he burst one day, storming into the sitting room.

Annabeth reared back in shock, putting down the book she had been reading by the fire. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ why have you been distant and cold the past week? Why we haven't been talking? And why do you keep acting like everything is bloody _brilliant_ even though it's obviously not? Annabeth, I want to know _what's the matter_."

Annabeth sighed. "I told you, Percy. I'm just tired."

He sat down next to her. "Annabeth, I know you, alright? I've seen you tired, exhausted, weary beyond belief. And while you might be tired, you're also upset about something, and I want to know what."

She didn't look at him.

"Annabeth," he begged. "Remember Christmas? Remember what we said to each other?"

"We said—I said I wanted to marry you," Annabeth said quietly.

"Yes. You did, and I did, and that's not something I want to take back. But we're together, we're courting, and if something's bothering you, then I want you to be able to tell me. I want to be able to talk to you about anything, and I want you to feel like you can tell me whatever you need to."

She still didn't say anything, staring at the flickering fire in the grate.

Percy stood up, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry for barging in here like that, I was just frustrated. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but Annabeth. I'm _here._ You know I am."

He turned to leave, but Annabeth grabbed his hand. "Wait," she said, reluctant.

Percy sat back down on the sofa. "Yes?"

"I've been—I've been thinking," she admitted. "Christmas—it was wonderful, and I had an amazing time, but it feels almost like a dream or something, now that everything is back to real life."

Percy's heart sped up a bit. "So… do you regret what we said to each other?" he asked carefully, dreading the answer. "Should I—"

"No, Percy," Annabeth exclaimed, taking his hands. "Of course not. I still want to marry you, and—get out of Boston and live somewhere in the country, and have children with you, and grow old together. Percy, there's so much in life that I want with you, and I don't want to give that up. Not for anything."

Percy breathed a sigh of relief. "So what has been bothering you? Why have you been acting so strangely?"

"You just didn't let me finish," she chided gently. "Like I said, Christmas was wonderful, but it felt like a dream, and now we're back to reality. Last week, when Luke and Thalia came over for supper…"

"So that's what this is about," Percy realized. "I should have known."

Last week's dinner with the Castellans had not been wonderful, to say the least.

It had started out all right—Mr. Chase, Luke, and Percy all discussing various topics as Thalia made the twins laugh and Annabeth and Mrs. Chase contributed to both conversations. Laughter rang freely and conversation flowed easily, until the topic of the war inevitably came up.

"Percy, you called him an idiot in front of my father," Annabeth told him, bringing him back to the present. "Luke is one of our oldest friends—one of _my_ closest friends. He's practically family. Your words and actions were rude and disrespectful, not to mention ridiculous."

"He said that the war would be over in a few months because the Patriots do not have enough supplies and men to back the cause," Percy argued, pulling his hands out from hers almost violently. "And as we both know, it will not. The Patriot cause is growing rapidly day by day as the injustices England does to the colonies multiply. Anyone who believes that the war will be over quickly and that this will all be smoothed over in a few months truly is an idiot."

Annabeth let her hands fall back to her lap, her eyes sad. "I know that, and you know that. But Percy—I've been a part of this war for almost two years now, and you for even longer. We've seen the battles, we've seen the carnage and death. Luke hasn't. In fact, most people haven't. But they've seen the results of the war—the harbor being blockaded, the wall at the Neck, the soldiers quartering throughout Boston, the diminishing supplies, the deserters…" her voice trembled, and Percy knew she was remembering Leo. "…the deserters being shot in the square.

"So do you blame them? Do you blame them for hoping, for praying that this war will be over soon? They don't know that it will not be over soon, and they have been suffering through it for years now. Luke hopes that the war will be over soon, without any more bloodshed." Annabeth's eyes were fierce, boring into him. "So do not call him an idiot—do not believe that he is a fool for praying that a war that has already affected us will stop soon."

Percy was stunned. "I—I didn't know you felt that way," he said. "I apologize. And looking back—calling him an idiot at the dinner table with your parents was probably not the most polite option."

She smiled a little bit. "Probably not." Her grey eyes studied him. "But that wasn't the only reason I've been upset."

"What else is it?"

"I don't think you just called Luke an idiot because of what he thinks about the war. I think you called Luke an idiot because you don't like him, and you're taking it out by insulting his opinions in a rude, brash way."

"What?" Percy blanched. "This isn't about me liking or disliking him, Annabeth. 'Tis about that fact that I don't _trust_ him."

Annabeth spread her hands. " _Why_ , Percy? What reason has he ever given you _not_ to trust him?"

"He's just never—he's never felt right to me," Percy admitted.

"That's ridiculous. You don't trust him because you were jealous of him at one time, and for some reason your petty envy has grown into bitterness against him."

"No!" Percy exclaimed. "I'll admit, I was jealous before you and I were courting and he was always around, or you were spending time with him, but. I know better now. He's married, and he clearly loves Thalia very much."

"But he loves me too," Annabeth says gently. "Not romantically, but in a sisterly way. I look to him as an older brother of sorts, sometimes even as a father figure. And because of that, I need you to get along with him. Or at least try, for my sake."

"I _have_ been trying," Percy muttered petulantly.

Annabeth half-sighed, half-laughed as she stood up, patting him on the cheek. "Try harder, love," she said before leaving the room in a sweeping of skirts.

Percy watched her go, knowing what he had to do.

•

"What the hell are you doing here, Jackson?" Luke barked, opening the door just a crack and nearly slamming it shut again at the sight of Percy on his doorstep.

Percy swallowed. "I'm here to apologize."

"For what?" Luke scoffs. "Insulting me at the Chase household or for not trusting me for as long as we've known each other?"

"Both," Percy admitted. "I guess—I didn't realize it until Annabeth told me, but. I've been jealous of you because you and Annabeth always had that special bond from growing up together and being friends for so long…"

"…and you didn't," Luke finished. "I know. And I would have apologized, or explained to you that Annabeth and I were never anything other than friends—more like siblings, honestly—but you seemed to hate me from the beginning, and I was just never able to."

"I know. And that's my fault and I take full responsibility for it, but I'm here now—like I said—to apologize." Percy took a deep breath. "I am sorry for being jealous and bitter towards you, and I'm sorry for insulting you last week at dinner."

Luke's chiseled expression softened. "I forgive you."

Percy nodded, and they stood there in a brief awkward silence before Luke opened the door a little wider. "Why don't you come in? You and Thalia are friends, and we were just about to eat our supper. You can join us." His voice was strained, and Percy knew it would take time, but it was a start.

He let a smile cross his face. "I would enjoy that," he said, and stepped inside.

It was just a small step, but it was in the right direction.

•

 _January 24_ _th_ _, 1776_

"Do you have to go?" Annabeth murmured.

"You know I do, Annabeth," he said, brushing back a curl from her face. "I have to go to the camp to give Major Pitcairn an update about what we've been doing. It's been weeks since I last went, and he might be starting to get impatient."

"But shouldn't I go with you?"

"Annabeth, it looks as though it might snow any moment," Percy said.

"And that's exactly why I don't want you going!" Annabeth exclaimed. "Couldn't you wait just a few days until the weather clears up?"

"I just need to get it done," he said, more gently. "I promise I'll be back soon, alright?"

"Try to be home by supper," Annabeth fretted, glancing worriedly out the window. It wasn't snowing, but the thick layer of angry grey clouds covering the sky were unsettling.

"I will," he promised, kissing her on the forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered. "Be safe."

Percy winked at her as he shrugged on his heavy coat. "You won't even know I was gone." He opened the door and shivered at the bitterly cold wind that immediately assaulted him.

After getting Blackjack from the stables, he climbed on and headed out into the street, Blackjack's hooves echoing on the icy cobblestones. Glancing back, he saw Annabeth still standing at the window, watching him go, and he waved in farewell.

She mouthed something to him, but he couldn't make it out, so he smiled at her one last time before wheeling Blackjack around and trotting down the deserted street. No one was out in the bitter cold; most reasonable people were huddled next to their fireplaces, away from the unforgiving winter wind outside.

The ride to the camp seemed even longer than normal; more than once, Percy had to get off Blackjack and jump on the side of the road, beating his shoulders with his hands to get the blood moving.

"Annabeth was right," he admitted to Blackjack at one point, his breath sending puffs of white into the frozen air. "We should have waited."

He was too close to the camp to turn back now, though, so he continued on, Blackjack's high-pitched whinny echoing in the miles of open, frozen fields.

Finally he reached the camp, heading straight to the Major's tent. Inside he found numerous soldiers crowding around a small fire, huddled in blankets and playing cards. Major Pitcairn himself was sitting at his desk, wrapping in a fur coat and writing furiously.

He looked up when Percy entered. "Officer Jackson! A pleasure. I was wondering when you would turn up here."

"I apologize for my absence, sir," Percy said smoothly. "I have been busy in Boston these past few weeks, and 'tis been so cold—"

"No matter," the major said, brushing aside Percy's apology. "Boys, get out. I have private matters to discuss with the officer."

Grumbling, the soldiers left the tent.

"So how are things in Boston?" Major Pitcairn asked as Percy took off his thick woolen mittens—a Christmas present from Mrs. Chase, one that he had been very grateful for the past few wintery months—and warmed his hands over the fire.

"It has been relatively quiet, since most people have been inside due to the cold," Percy told the major. "However, supplies are getting low, despite the donations from the other colonies still coming through the Neck."

The major nodded, looking concerned. "I would hate for any families or children to suffer because of the winter and food shortages."

Percy bit his tongue, but he wanted to shout to the major— _then end this war. Use your influence with General Gage, with the king himself, to stop this idiotic blockage and end the bloodshed._ Besides, he knew it would do no good, even if he did say it.

"Is there anything else?" the major asked, bringing Percy back to the conversation.

"Yes, sir. If anything of interest happens, I will be sure to notify you immediately," Percy said.

The major nodded distractedly. "Thank you, Officer Jackson." He followed Percy toward the exit the tent. Already fat snowflakes have begun swirling down from the angry grey sky, and he wind has picked up. "You might want to stay here at the camp until the storm has passed," Major Pitcairn advised.

Percy shook his head, thinking of his promise to Annabeth. "Thank you for the offer, sir, but I should get back to town."

The major pressed his lips together worriedly. "Alright, I will not stop you. Be careful."

Percy nodded in thanks as he mounted Blackjack and wheeled the horse around. "Yes sir. Thank you sir." He trotted out of the camp, shivering and praying that he would get to town quickly.

It was less than five minutes later that he realized how foolish he had been. The storm had picked up, snow swirling angrily around him and stinging whatever skin was uncovered. Percy held up his arm, trying to see, but the snow got in his eyes and nose. The world was a blur of white, and he could barely see the road. But he kept riding.

Suddenly, Blackjack stumbled in the deep snow, and Percy hopped off, only to realize they weren't on the road anymore. Somehow in the blinding storm, they had gotten off track, and he had no idea which way the road was, and where to turn.

He had no choice. They could only stop, or freeze to death as he and Blackjack stumbled aimlessly through the world of swirling white.

Percy dropped to his knees and began digging clumsily through the deep snow. The effort warmed him up, and his fingers and toes began to tingle a little, alerting him to how numb they had been before.

After what seemed like hours—but maybe it was only minutes, time was meaningless in this endless world of white and cold—he had dug out a cave in the snow, big enough for him and Blackjack. It took a little convincing to get the horse inside the makeshift shelter, but finally they were both inside.

Percy took off Blackjack's saddle and set it snugly against the opening of the cave, cutting off the swirl of wind. He could finally open his eyes again, and the relief from the stinging snow was immense.

He wiggles his fingers and toes, knowing that the rapidly dropping temperatures would soon create frostbite if he wasn't careful. Leaning against Blackjack, Percy tried to think. He had no food, thinking the trip to the camp would only be a little while, but if he was thirsty he had plenty of snow. He and Blackjack could last maybe a few days in the cave, if they were careful, but—the bitter cold might do them in before that.

And what if no one could find them? Percy had no idea how far from the road they were. Maybe they were in the middle of a field, and the blizzard would have covered their footprints by now. It would be difficult—no, impossible—for anyone to find them, let alone in the midst of the storm.

He would just have to wait out the blizzard. He snuggled against Blackjack, hoping against hope that he could stay alive long enough to outlast the storm, and get home to Annabeth.

 _Annabeth!_ His fuzzy mind was immediately awake again. She would be so worried. He had promised her he would be home before supper, and now—

Now there was a chance he would never make it home at all.

 _It's ironic,_ Percy thought as his breathing slowed, his body growing more and more weary. _We've been fighting the odds of battle, of being double spies, of being children in a war we didn't sign up for. And now I might die because of a stupid storm, because I was an idiot and didn't listen to Annabeth or Major Pitcairn._

But he couldn't keep blaming himself much longer. The numbing cold and his own exhaustion combined grew together until his fluttering eyes closed, and he fell asleep, laying on his horse for warmth and the dim shriek of the blizzard wailing outside their frozen refuge.

•

 _January 25_ _th_ _, 1776_

Annabeth was going out of her mind.

She couldn't believe that it had been less than twenty-four hours when she last saw Percy. Although when he hadn't been back in time, she had been a little worried, but when she saw the storm picking up, she had assumed he had just stayed at the camp overnight. Despite her anxiety, she had forced herself to put it away and hope that Percy had done the smart thing.

But then a few hours after she had woken up, a few officers sent by Major Pitcairn had shown up on the doorstep, inquiring if Percy had made it home safely.

She had nearly broken down right then and there, but she had forced herself to keep up a calm façade in front of the soldiers, in front of her family. Inside the knot of dread and worry was swirling in time to her rapidly pounding heart.

Annabeth told the soldiers that Percy had never made it home, and the soldiers—who were apparently friends of his—were immediately alarmed. They assured her that they would gather a search party and go looking for him, but inside Annabeth was doubtful. The storm was still swirling—not as furiously as the night before, but. The blizzard was definitely not over, and who knew how long it would continue? The human body could only withstand the frigid temperatures and howling winds for so long.

She closed the door on the soldiers and turned around to see the somber faces of her family. Her parents and brothers looked solemn, all of them knowing what would probably happen, and none of them wanting to say it.

"They'll find him," she said fiercely. "They _will._ "

"Of course they will, sweetheart," Mr. Chase said, but Annabeth knew her father, knew his expressions and tones of his voice, and he was _lying._

They all knew what was the most likely, and Annabeth couldn't hold up in front of them—those worried, solemn faces of her little brothers, the pitying, sympathetic faces of her father and stepmother—and she fled upstairs, braving the cold that permeated the upper floor of the house to have some privacy.

She fell onto her bed, as though all the strength had left her body at once, and lay there silently. It was as though she couldn't even produce the tears cry. She couldn't betray Percy like that—couldn't cry for him as though he was already dead.

 _He's alive._

It was a mantra, or maybe a prayer, that she spoke in time to her rapidly beating heart, frantic with worry and doubts.

What if he had strayed from the road? What if he and Blackjack had tried to reach a tavern or other shelter, but had failed? What if he had succumbed to the bitter cold and—

 _No. He's alive._

 _What if, what if, what if—_

She forced the thoughts from her mind, but the remains still lingered.

She began to think of what would happen if she lost him. Logically, she had gone through this before—she had explored every option. Him being killed or seriously injured in a battle, him having to go back to England, him being captured by minutemen or overly-zealous rebels, him being found out for a double spy and hanged or shot in the public square. She had thought through _anything_ that could happen, though about how she would react, thought about what she would have to do, and despite all that— _knowing_ that she wanted to be with him anyway. Despite what could be inevitable heartbreak and loss, despite perhaps being torn apart, whether in life or death.

But not once—not _once—_ had she thought they could be separated, perhaps forever, by a blizzard. By cold, by ice, by the frigid cold that slowed the heart down until it stopped forever, frozen forever in the icy wasteland where no one would find him until the blizzard stopped—

Annabeth glanced down at her hands, and they were shaking so violently that she could barely keep her eyes on them

 _Percy. Percy. Percy._

Every beat of her heart begged for him to be alive, to be alright.

God, how many times would she have to lose him before the odds caught up to them and he really was gone? Rachel, their own stubbornness, the bullet that nearly cost him his life, and now this—

 _He's going to be alright._

 _He's alive._

But the problem was that she didn't know. She didn't know, dammit, and for all she knew Percy could really be dead, skin bloodless and white as the snow around him, vibrant eyes unseeing and glassy and frozen.

Stopped in the prime of his life.

Trembling, she stood up and pulled on her shawl, her coat, a thick scarf over her head, and went downstairs, heading out the door into the blindingly white of the storm.

She was going to find Percy. She was going to get him back.

Nothing was going to stop her.

•

 **hey friends! meant to update on saturday and i was gone most of the weekend and forgot. hope you enjoyed this chapter and pls leave a review!**

 **edit: posted this really fast this morning and forgot to mention as always thanks to helena for betaing and correcting all my random mistakes ilyyyy**

 **(also shoutout to bacon6161 for bugging me about updating you're so sweet and literally knowing people want to read this is all the motivation i need)**

 **ok see y'all next week for another chapter hopefully haha**

 **xx wm**


	25. Lost and Found

**hello friends!**

 **sorry it's been so ridiculously long since I updated lolol I meant to update like a week after my last one and… life happened? idek but thankfully finished this chapter and already started the next one so mAyBe we'll get back to a normal updating schedule (although no promises ski season is in full swing which means I'm working and racing a lot and that plus school and everything else is just a lot oof)**

 **anyway onto the chapter pls enjoy!**

•

 _January 25th, 1776_

"Jason!" she cried, pounding on the door. The roar of the blizzard grew, and she shouted over it. "Jason, please open the door!"

The door cracked open, and Piper's familiar face lit up in a smile. "Annabeth! How lovely to see you. Come in, this storm's getting worse." She stepped aside, revealing a heavily pregnant abdomen.

Annabeth gasped, her worry forgotten for a fleeting second. "Piper! You're pregnant!" She clapped her hand over her mouth instantly. "I'm sorry, 'tis not proper to speak of it—"

Piper laughed, drawing her inside the warm, cozy little house. "It's perfectly all right," she said, her diction pronounced and voice sweetly lilting. "We're not in public, and I'm very glad you know. I've been meaning to have you and Percy over to tell you—you both are the reason I am even able to be here."

All of Annabeth's worry and exhaustion came back in an instant. "That's what I'm here for, actually. Percy, I mean. Is Jason here?"

Piper's brow crinkled. "Is something wrong?"

Annabeth sat down at the table and explained everything—Percy leaving for the camp, how he never returned, the search party looking for him. "I know it's snowing, but the storm isn't as bad as it was, and—" she broke off. "I need him, Piper. I know my parents think he might be…"

Piper sat down across from her and grasped her hand warmly. "Of course. I understand completely. And Annabeth—Percy's smart. He's probably tucked away somewhere with Blackjack, just waiting out the blizzard."

"I know, but Piper, you've lived your whole life in Virginia. The blizzards here—sometimes they come on so fast you have no time to search for shelter, and it's completely blinding."

Piper nodded. "I know. But we will find him. Jason will be home shortly."

Piper made her a cup of tea, which Annabeth accepted gratefully and held it close, reveling in the warmth. Her hands shook so badly that a few drops spilled out, but Piper merely wiped the table and touched Annabeth's shoulder comfortingly.

After only a few minutes, the door opened and Jason came in, his outer wraps crusted with snow. "I think the storm's dying down, Pipes. In fact—" he turned around, closing the door, and saw Annabeth. "Annabeth? What are you doing here?"

She explained yet again, trying to hide the frantic worry and weariness in her voice.

Jason's face was grim as she finished. "Percy's been here for enough winters to know what to do if he's stuck in a blizzard, but that storm—it came on so fast. We'll have to hurry."

"Should we get more men? Backup?" Annabeth asked anxiously.

"No, there's no time. Every minute is precious when you're in weather like this," Jason said, shaking out the snow from his scarf and tying it around his neck again. "I'll go alone."

Annabeth stood, shrugging her own heavy outer wraps back on again. "I'm going with you."

Jason looked alarmed. "What? No, Annabeth, you cannot. 'Tis dangerous out there."

"I know, but I am physically capable, and besides, you cannot go out there alone. If the storm gets worse, you might need help."

Piper stepped forward. "I agree with her. In fact, I would go out with you both, but—"

Jason stepped forward, placing his mittened hand gently on her abdomen. "You need to stay warm and safe for the baby."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "I know."

Jason looked weary. "Then fine, Annabeth. But we'll have to leave immediately, before the storm picks up again."

Annabeth nodded firmly. "I'm ready to go."

Jason turned back to his wife as Annabeth pulled on her boots. "Be safe, my love."

"Me, safe?" Piper scoffed. "You are the one going out into the storm."

Jason laughed softly, and held her close. Annabeth was silent, not wanting to intrude into the private moment, and her heart ached as she watched them kiss, watched Jason embrace his wife.

She wanted Percy. She _needed_ him back, needed him to be safe.

She wanted this—what Jason and Piper had together. A married life, a home, a baby. Somewhere to come back to after a day apart, somewhere they could raise their children together.

Would it even happen?

Jason interrupted her thoughts by placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Let's go."

Annabeth quickly hugged Piper goodbye and followed Jason out the door. Thankfully the storm had died down a bit, and the snowflakes hurtling from the heavens were less thick, less blinding.

"Where should we start?" she asked, trudging through the snow next to Jason.

His brow was furrowed. "Probably we should go to the camp, retrace his steps from there. Maybe he just wandered off the road in the blizzard, or perhaps took shelter in a barn or house along the way."

Annabeth nodded firmly and followed him.

Less than an hour later, they had made it to the camp. The snow was falling gently, contrasting to the whirling winds of the storm earlier. They checked in quickly with Major Pitcairn, but he told them that Percy had left and that he would send soldiers out to search for him as soon as the storm completely stopped.

Annabeth felt a lump rising in her throat, and she hurried out of the tent as Jason thanked the major and followed her. "Are you alright?" he asked her gently.

She shook her head, swallowing. "No. No, I'm not."

Jason nodded grimly. "We're going to find him, 'beth. I promise."

 _Don't promise,_ Annabeth's heart cried. _Because you might have to break it, and what would I do then?_

But she forced a smile to her frozen lips. "Alright," she said weakly, and Jason seemed to understand.

They trudged out to the road. "Let's head back the way we came, since that's how Percy would have started back," Jason suggested. "If you see anything, shout."

It felt like hours of walking in the deep snow. Annabeth's legs burned and ached. But she trudged on, ignoring the pain, thinking only of Percy. Jason was silent next to her, occasionally lending a hand if she needed help getting out of a hole the snow or her boots were stuck.

Suddenly he stopped, squinting out into a large field covered in a deep layer of pure white snow. "What?" Annabeth asked, following his gaze.

"Nothing," Jason said, shaking his head as he turned back to the road. "And yet…"

"What?" she asked again.

"I think I see something, but I'm not certain," Jason said, his gaze sharp. "Wait here."

"No," Annabeth said stubbornly. "I'm going with you."

He sighed, apparently expecting this. "Fine. Come along, then." He stepped off the road and the snow immediately came up to his mid-thigh.

Annabeth swallowed, knowing that it would be even higher on her, since she was shorter than Jason, but she had no choice. Percy could be out there. Holding her skirts high, she followed Jason, her already aching legs groaning in protest as she tramped through the deep snow.

"Aha!" Jason shouted, his voice echoing eerily over the snow-covered field in the cold air. "Look!"

Annabeth gasped. He was holding up a satchel— _Percy's_ satchel, one he had had with him when he left the day before. "It was on Blackjack," she said, tears welling as she remembered. "I looked out the window as he left, and it was attacked to the saddle. I was saying something to him, but I don't think he could read my lips through the window…" he voice trailed off as she remembered what she had said to him, the last time she saw him, wheeling around Blackjack and smiling back at her.

 _I love you._

Blinking away tears, she shook her head. "If it's here, then Blackjack at least got this far. Hopefully Percy was still with him."

Jason nodded. "They might be around here somewhere, since there's no shelter anywhere near here. They couldn't have gotten much farther than this in that storm."

Annabeth knew the unspoken in his words: _Either they're here, or we'll find their bodies._

She nodded fiercely and hiked on through the snow. Jason followed, and both of them called out in the frozen air, hoping that if Percy was anywhere near he would hear them.

They were close to giving up when Annabeth heard Jason suddenly shout from behind her. Whirling around, she saw him digging frantically in the snow.

"What? What did you find?" she asked wildly, already stumbling through the drifts, kneeling and digging with him.

Jason held up Blackjack's saddle. "I'm betting he made a cave in the snow for shelter, and used this as the door. But with the shifting winds, it somehow got moved—"

"But he's still here. He and Blackjack are still here."

Jason firmed his lips. "I hope so."

They continued to dig quickly, and suddenly the snow caved away to reveal a little room of snow, barely big enough to contain—

"Percy," Annabeth breathed.

Jason caught her arm. "Annabeth, wait—"

She broke away from his gasp and stumbled down into the little hollow. Percy was leaning against Blackjack; the horse looked up and neighed weakly at Annabeth, but didn't move.

"Percy," she said again, the tightness and worry in her chest expanding until she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, and she reached him and he was _breathing,_ he was alive and breathing.

But barely.

His eyes were closed and face was pale, and frost had actually gathered on his nose. She brushed it off with her fingers, shocked at how ice-cold his bloodless skin was.

"Annabeth, his heart is beating so slowly—" Jason murmured on his other side, fingers on his friend's pulse. "If it weren't for Blackjack, he'd have frozen to death by now."

Annabeth's chest heaved with dry sobs. "He's alive."

"For now," Jason reminded her. "We have to get him home, and quickly." He lifted Percy's unconscious body off of Blackjack, who snorted and got to his feet, shaking the snow off his glossy back. "I know you're tired, Blackjack, but you're going to have to carry him," Jason murmured to the horse. "Think you can do that?"

With Annabeth's help, they managed to get him on Blackjack's back, and Jason led the horse as Annabeth stumbled behind as they headed out of the endlessly frozen field to the road again.

The journey home passed in a blur. Annabeth could barely think—Percy was alive. But would he be able to stay that way? She knew people who had gotten too cold in the Boston winters, who had died in the frigid temperatures, people who had lost hands and feet from frostbite.

It was too much for her to handle, to think about, now. She just had to get Percy home.

They reached the Chase house, Percy slumping from the horse and Jason catching his limp body in his arms. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion—Annabeth ran up the icy steps, followed by Jason carrying Percy; she threw open the door, and vaguely registered her family's shocked faces and exclamations as Jason barked orders. They brought him to the parlor, laying him in front of the roaring fire.

Jason brought in buckets of snow and pulled off Percy's boots, rubbing his feet with snow to get the blood moving again, but Annabeth barely noticed. She knelt next to his head, brushing back his frozen hair from his closed eyes.

"Please come back to me," she begged, holding back her tears. "Don't leave, Percy. We found you—you're going to be alright…" she dissolved into sobs, shoulders shaking, but his eyes remained closed.

The minutes turned into hours. Jason went over all Percy's extremities with the snow, and Annabeth helped him strip most of Percy's frozen uniform off and replace it with blankets. The fire roared, and Percy shook with chills, sweat beading on his forehead.

"What should I do?" Annabeth asked Jason tearfully.

Jason shook his head. "I—I don't know."

In the end, there wasn't really anything they could do.

Mrs. Chase made a pot of steaming soup, and Annabeth managed to get a little hot broth down Percy's throat, but he choked on it, and still didn't wake. Evening turned into night, and Jason stood at the window looking out into the snowy darkness as Annabeth sat next to Percy on the floor, holding his hand and rocking back and forth.

Once or twice, Mr. Chase came into the room to stock the fire with more wood, squeezing Annabeth's shoulder sympathetically. He had already told her that it wasn't certain if Percy would live or not; after being exposed to the bitter cold so long, he would be very weak.

Annabeth knew that. She _knew_ that it was a miracle he had even lived this long, a miracle that none of his fingers or toes had fallen off with frostbite. She knew that her father, a doctor, had seen this before; this slow fall into a frozen death, even after being rescued.

But she refused to believe it.

Around midnight, her head was nodding with exhaustion. Jason had left earlier in order to get home to Piper, and promised to come first thing the next morning. Annabeth hadn't left Percy's side—not to eat, not to sleep, not to change—and the rest of her family had gone to bed. She was dozing off, still holding his hand, when she heard the front door open cautiously.

"Annabeth?" a soft voice asked.

Annabeth blinked. "Who is it?"

A head of bouncy red curls peeked around the door. "'Tis me, Rachel. Oh—" Her eyes had fallen upon Percy, covered in blankets and lying, almost lifeless, on the floor next to the fire.

"Oh, Annabeth—" Rachel said again, her hand covering her mouth, before falling to her knees and embracing her.

Annabeth hugged her friend back, her tears finally breaking loose. "Rachel," she sobbed. "Rachel, we don't know if he's going to make it—we found him, but it might have been too late—"

She felt Rachel's tears, hot on her neck. "He _will,_ " Rachel said, fiercely, stubbornly. "Annabeth, he will. He has to." She leaned back, her green eyes studying Annabeth. "You're exhausted, though. You need to get sleep."

"But Percy—"

"I'll stay with him. Or we both can. Bring your quilt down here and sleep on the sofa."

"But—"

"No buts," Rachel said firmly. "You're dead on your feet. Wait a minute—" she stood quickly and darted out of the parlor, returning in a few seconds with Annabeth's quilt from her bed. "Here. Take off your shoes—that's it, good."

Everything was foggy with exhaustion, and Annabeth sank onto the couch, her vision blacking out as Rachel covered her with the blanket. The last thing she saw was Percy, lying still on the ground next to the fire.

 _You have to live,_ she thought fuzzily. _I can't—I don't want to live without you._

And then she fell asleep.

•

"Annabeth. Annabeth, wake up."

Annabeth blinked, sitting up slowly. "Percy?" she croaked.

The person in front of her laughed softly. "No, it's Jason."

Annabeth scrambled to sit up. "How is he?"

Jason gestured to the fire. "See for yourself."

Annabeth turned, and there he was—he was sitting up, and a very pregnant Piper was sitting next to him, feeding him broth. He looked up, and saw her, and his pale face lit up in a weak smile.

Annabeth sobbed and tumbled of the couch into his arms. "Percy," she gasped. "Percy, Percy, Percy—"

"He's not out of the woods yet," Jason said, before taking a step back. "I'm interrupting a moment, aren't I?"

Piper shook her head at him fondly. "Yes, love."

Annabeth didn't even notice. "Do you even know how worried I was?" she demanded, pulling back. "How worried everyone was?"

Percy winced, and his voice was raspy and quiet, but to Annabeth it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "I know. I'm—I'm sorry." He tried to say more, but coughs overtook his frame, and his shoulders shook as he retched.

Annabeth gasped. "Don't say anything more," she ordered, worry filling her again. "Here—" she reached for water and handed him a cup. "Drink."

He reached for it, hands trembling, and sloshed water on his linen shirt as he drank. Annabeth guided his hands, slowing the shaking.

"Is the moment over yet?" Jason asked.

Annabeth took a deep breath. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Your father examined him this morning. He'll take some time to recover, and he can't exert himself at all," Jason explained. "His lungs are weak from the cold, and he seems to have lost hearing in one ear. But he woke up, and your father said he should be back to normal in less than a week, assuming all goes well."

Annabeth burst into sobs, her heart a mess of emotions. Percy seemed to understand, weakly enfolding her in his arms and pressing kisses to her hair as she wept against his shoulder, murmuring, "I'm alright, I'm fine. We're going to be fine."

She pulled back finally and wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Jason. For everything."

Jason smiled. "Of course."

Annabeth hugged Piper, and Rachel stumbled off the other sofa, curly red hair a nest of tangles around her face. "I want to hug too," she mumbled, and Annabeth, laughing through her tears, enfolded her in the group embrace.

"Who are you?" Rachel asked sleepily, glancing at Piper.

"This is Piper," Annabeth explained. "Piper, Rachel. Rachel, Piper."

Piper looked slightly alarmed, and Annabeth didn't blame her. The color of her skin and her heritage as a Cherokee from the mountains of Virginia cut her off from the small-minded colonists. If someone was to find out that she and Jason were married, apart from the Chase family—who Annabeth had told a few months before—and Luke and Thalia, well—

But she knew Rachel, and trusted her.

And she didn't let Annabeth down.

"A pleasure," Rachel mumbled, hugging Piper sleepily—carefully navigating Piper's protruding abdomen—and climbing back onto the sofa. "I'm exhausted, I'm going back to sleep."

Piper laughed softly, relief showing on her chiseled features, and leaned back into Jason's arms. "I like her," she said to Annabeth, nodding toward where the redhead had curled back up under a quilt, already snoring again.

Annabeth smiled too, watching Rachel's pale face relax into sleep. "Rachel's amazing, and you can trust her, Piper. I promise."

Piper nodded, smiling her thanks, and squeezed Annabeth's hand before getting to her feet with Jason's help. The two of them left the parlor, leaving Annabeth and Percy by themselves—well, not counting Rachel, asleep on the sofa.

Percy, having finished the broth that Piper had been feeding him, set down the bowl and pulled Annabeth into his arms again. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I was stupid, and selfish, and I should have listened to you and Major Pitcairn. I shouldn't have gone out into that storm, and I caused so much worry and trouble for so many people, especially you—"

Annabeth kissed him, effectively quieting his apology. "'Tis alright, Percy. You're here, and you're safe. That's all that matters to me right now."

Percy nodded, pressing a kiss to her hair. "We're safe."

Annabeth laid her head against his shoulder and they were soon fast asleep, completely unaware of how little time they had left.

•

 **and that's that! ahhh we're so close to the end I can tASTE it**

 **shameless plug I wrote a story for my friend aisling's 18thbirthday (some of you may know her as allineedisabook [guest] she's fantastic) and I'd love it if you checked it out =)**

 **ok hope y'all have an awesome week pls leave a review if you liked it!**

 **wm**


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